


The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

by sachi_sama



Series: Great Music and Chaotic Evenings [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drinking, M/M, Music, Night Adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachi_sama/pseuds/sachi_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is more than a little surprised when his lifelong bro comes his way to play a gig, but meeting face to face will raise far more questions than what they'll talk about during the visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This one got lots of love on my FF account, so I'll share it with y'all too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex."- The Postal Service "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight".

YOU are a third person observer who happens to be looking into the small one bedroom, one bathroom apartment belonging to the lump under the covers. This lump is steadily breathing, allowing you to know it's asleep, or at least very relaxed. This makes you kind of a creeper, doesn't it? Shame on you. What will you do?

===>BE THE LUMP.

YOU are now the LUMP. You are irritated by the sudden blip noise your computer makes, alerting you of a new message on your Pesterchum account. You are trying to fight the urge to go check it, because you know who it will be, and you always find yourself caught up in conversations with that person, and never get anything done. It occurs to you that you don't really have anything to do today, because you're off work, and your manager better keep his word that he won't call you in. When another blip goes off, you give up trying to fight the urge, and proceed to remove the covers from your person.

Whoa, holy fuck, you're not a lump. You're a very irritated looking young man with unruly black hair, horrible eyesight, and clothes much too big for you on. Your hair is currently a mess, partially because you just woke up, but also because it always looks that way. Your eyeglasses are on the bedside table, and you place them on the bridge of your nose so you can actually see. Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you're about to gather enough energy to go check your damn computer. As soon as you look around your awesome digs.

Your walls are covered in movie poster memorabilia. You are Nicolas Cage's biggest fan, in a totally heterosexual way. His likeness is displayed all over the walls of your bedroom, and no, you don't think it's weird having his stare always on you, despite what others might have said on the subject. You aren't really into explaining why you like these movies, but you get asked more often than not. Another blip reminds you of why you're awake. Sighing, you make your way to the large PC in the corner. It's a bit of a dinosaur computer, but you like it, because it's all yours, and comic book peddlers can't be picky. Especially since you're also a full time student. The Pesterchum account is already on display, and sure enough, it's your best bro messaging you.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:37--

TG: hey egderp

TG: john

TG: dude

TG: i have news so insane it will blow your lame ass posters off your walls

TG: for real wake up you sleep enough as it is

Laughing slightly, you type a reply, feigning anger. 

EB: WHAT?

EB: i do NOT sleep that much. you never let me sleep.

EB: i hope you get buried in smuppet ass again.

TG: not cool man you know how messed up that experience made me

TG: i hope betty crocker marries nick cage

TG: and they make weird ass awful actor/chef babies after doing it all night long and send you pictures

EB: EWWWWWWW! okay, stop! what do you want?

TG: i have news for you

TG: i didnt tell you last night because its a surprise but im on a plane right now headed your way

EB: wait, what? you're coming to washington? dude! i wish you had said something! why are you coming here?

TG: its sweet as fuck really

TG: i got a gig at a huge nightclub there and figured it was worth the trip because theyre paying me a shitload

TG: plus youre there so i can see you too you know be a cool bro and what not get you in the club for free

TG: you have an apartment downtown right

EB: you're only getting me in the club for free if i let you stay with me, right? such a noble knight you are, dave.

EB: what were you going to do if i said no?

TG: you wouldnt say no

TG: not to me

TG: i gotta turn my phone off now so stay awake for my call

TG: jesus you sleep too much

TG: later

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]at 10:48--

You stare at your screen in disbelief, even though turntechGodhead has now gone offline. Of course, you've long since known him by his real name, Dave Strider, a completely awesome dude beyond compare, yo. Or so he tells you. You've been his online chum since you were both eleven years old, and you met in an embarrassing video game forum. He was talking bad about your favorite game at the time, and you argued with him for about an hour before you gave up, because he started throwing mad rhymes at you. After that, he would occasionally pester you about other topics, obviously hoping to rile you up again. And then, after all of that, you would pester him back just to see what was up, because honestly, he was the coolest fucking guy you had ever met, even if you hadn't actually met him in person. But apparently, that was about to change.

You look around your apartment, which you keep clean, because you wouldn't want Nick Cage looking at your dwelling with disdain. Okay, so maybe his eyes constantly being on you does affect you more than you'd like to admit, but you keep it to yourself. As said, you live in Washington, about an hour north of Seattle. You lived with your father until you started school, because you wanted to experience life on your own, though you still visit your dad often. Truthfully, you've taken to living alone very well, and are thinking of getting a pet. Something cool to freak your dad out for all those years he tortured you with Betty Crocker's incessant cake mixes. You've forgotten how often you would walk around the house just to find another cake on the floor, next to a misplaced can of shaving cream. Since you got your own place, you've never once said the name of the Crocker witch, but Dave likes to throw it at you every now and then just to poke fun.

You know it's weird to have had an internet friend for so long, but you actually have a few of them, and have known them even longer than Dave. Your best gal pals Rose Lalonde and Jade Harley had been in your acquaintance before you even joined that gaming forum. To your joy, Dave had become one of the group, and the four of you often had insanely long conversations together. Oddly, Dave has only kept in contact with you, but Rose and Jade never seemed to take it personally. In fact, they seem to understand his busy lifestyle more than you do, because you won't ever let him even think of forgetting you. You're selfish like that.

Now raises the question you've been dreading while staring dumbly at your own Pesterchum page. What will you do once Dave gets here? You're a bit of a geek, which you're more than certain he's aware of. You're a little pissed he didn't tell you ahead of time, but that's part of his ironic charm. While you fret over this, the observer gets a little bored, and leaves you to ponder.

Now, WHAT WILL YOU DO? ===>BE THE OTHER GUY.

You don't know what that means. You've never been another guy. You're always been you, and you're a badass motherfucker if you do say so yourself. And you do.

Your name is DAVE STRIDER. You have a wide range of interests, most of them revolving around music, games, and internet comics. You're a self-made entrepreneurial genius, and have managed to use your turntables to pay your bills, and then some. As if that isn't enough, your highly sought after Sweet Bro & Hella Jeff comics have put more scratch in your bank account than you know what to do with. Your odd sense of IRONY has made you somewhat of an enigma among your peers, and your only true friend lives in a different state than you. You can't even begin to grasp the irony of that situation. Like, the situation refuses to have you grasp it. Seriously, it's all over the place, being wicked sweet with that irony, and you're too much of a fucktrumpet to understand it. But that's a story best saved for another poorly drawn SB&HJ comic. You always make sure to send those to your best bro, John Egbert.

And since you're such a made man, and you're so fucking cool that you don't even know how you're not freezing to death by this point, you've decided to go and visit your derpy friend you've had since you were eleven years old. This ranks up there with the craziest things you've ever done. You've never met this guy, but you decided to make this trip to see him. Yeah, you have a gig at the biggest nightclub in the state, and you're dragging John all the way to Seattle once you get there, but that's not why you decided on that city. It was all to see the Egg-man himself, but you'd never let him know that. After all this time, you decided to meet the lucky guy at the other end of your monitor. Your bro hassled you for it a bit, but he hassles you a lot less since you moved out of his apartment. Between your entrepreneurial god-ness, and his totally wicked innovative…ness, the two of you have managed to build separate empires. His is built on his smuppets more than his comics, but you dare not visit that site if you can help it. You were completely buried in them once, and it was a traumatizing experience Eg-jerk still likes to torment you about. You keep track of your brother's works, as he does with yours, but you never talk about it, because that would involve feelings and shit, and that's just not your thing. You think you talk less to your Bro than you do with John, but that's never bothered you. Egbert is much more needy. Almost like a pet. And you've been looking for a pet, now that you think about it. You might just keep him, if he's good.

You smirk at this thought before you can stop yourself. Lucky for you, behind your awesome aviator shades, a gift from your best bro, you can hide most of your expressions, but that's not the full reason you wear them. They look wicked sweet, all up there on your nose, just chillin' and shit. The shades are the only gift you've ever cherished, but you'd also never admit that. Egbert would probably have a goddamn field day.

You lean back in your seat, still waiting for the plane to take off. They told all the passengers to turn their phones off, but seem to be taking their sweet-ass time to take off. You wish you had brought your Mac with you, but you wanted to travel light, and your iPhone is more than enough. Plus, John has a computer. You can't help but wonder what kind of setup he has at home. It's probably some ridiculously huge dinosaur he loves more than anything else. He's like that. You know more about him than you thought you could know about a person, but it's time to see his grown-up goofy face in person. He had sent you a picture once, but it was with your birthday shades, and he was barely in it. You were able to make out his face while he was pointing to the poster of the movie that made the shades iconic, but he probably didn't even realize he was in it. He had never seen you in pictures, unless he kept up with your magazine articles about your amazing awesomeness, since you were all hot shit now with your ironic empire. A cool dude like you has no reason to be nervous about anything, so you chalk up those rad butterflies in your stomach to being little dance freaks or something. It's time to relax and think of all the dorky things Egbert probably does in person, since you have a list in your mind.

You always imagined him as the same little nerd in the photo, small and mousy with big, wide blue eyes. He had unruly black hair, thick rimmed glasses too big for his face, and an overbite. He looked like a poster child for the Harry Potter series, but it was another thing you liked about him. You had caught yourself asking for more recent pictures, but quickly deleted the messages before they were sent, since John would have probably taken it the wrong way. You can't help but wonder how he's changed in appearance since that picture was taken, and are admittedly very excited to see him in person. This is going to be a good trip, you decide.

Oh, and you still have that picture, but for sentimental purposes. Yeah.


	2. Destrokk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We live life, we live it large. In control, taking charge. You are soft, and we are hard. You don't desire to step to our fire."- MGMT "Destrokk.

You are John Egbert again. You've been cleaning obsessively since the last message from Dave, which is still flashing on your computer. You've been glancing at it off and on while scrubbing your counters and re-re-rearranging objects on your bookshelf. No, you don't have a problem. You're not nervous. Why would you be nervous? Why would anyone possibly think that? No, no, you're not at all. Just very…clean. Clean, but definitely not nervous. You wonder idly who you're talking to.

After you realize you've been scrubbing the same spot for the past five minutes, you freeze, laughing slightly to yourself. Okay, so maybe you're a little nervous, but you have reason to be! For as long as you can remember, Dave Strider has been everything you're just…not. Of course, everyone is different, and you should be happy as you are, and blah, blah, blah, all of that jazz. At the same time, you're just a little put off about the fact that he's the embodiment of cool. Even the lame things he does come off as smooth, and you've been witness to his drunken messages, which usually turn into mistyped rap battles with himself, so that's saying something. Even then, when you imagine he's probably stumbling over himself and blindly typing his messages to you, doing who knows what with God knows who, he manages to be cooler than you. And that's why you're nervous.

You're also pissed slightly pissed off that he planned this all out without telling you. Now he's going to be here in your apartment for a few days, and today is your only day off. Great planning, Dave. Simply superb. Still, you can't stay mad at him. He meant well, and you know that, despite being irritated. He never really plans things out before he does them, and his spontaneity is part of what makes him cool, so you accept it all. Damn, you sound like a housewife, and you haven't even seen the bastard yet. Then, the weight of that word hits you. Yet.

The awesome guy you've told everything to since you were a kid, the one you sent gifts to every birthday, and every Christmas, the one you've confessed your fears to, and in turn, listened to his odd fear of puppets, yes, him; he's coming here to see you. The guy you know by his bright red text and quirks that he's proud of, the one you wish you could be more like because he's just so comfortable being himself; he's going to be in your company while you have nothing planned. The self-made DJ who taught himself everything he knows and expects you to go to a nightclub with him like you're actually cool; he's going to realize what a dork you actually are.

Oh shit. Now you're nervous.

Just as you're thinking of this, another noise from your computer alerts you of a new message. But it's not from Dave.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]at 15:37--

TT: Dave tells me he's on his way to see you. I know you had no idea, so I'm assuming you're most likely freaking out right now. Are you alright?

EB: i'm totally fine. why wouldn't i be fine? just sitting here doing nothing. yup, that's me.

TT: You're doing that thing again.

EB: thing?

TT: Rambling. You almost sound like Strider when you do that. What are you really doing?

EB: cleaning.

TT: I thought you did that last night? You must be anxious. What time is he supposed to be there?

EB: uh… his plane left around 11 i think.

TT: It's about a four hour flight, so it should be soon.

EB: wait, what? it's already after 3? oh shit!

TT: Relax, John. What are you so worked up about? I'd imagine you will just talk to him about all the things you two normally discuss in your free time, which is constantly. I believe I talk less to Kanaya than you talk to Dave.

TT: And for whatever it's worth, I also believe him to be just as nervous as you, because it's once in a blue moon I hear from him, yet early this morning he's messaging me all about his flight to surprise you. He's easier to read than you though, despite what he thinks.

EB: so, uh…

EB: if you can read him…

EB: what do you think he's thinking right now?

TT: You can ask him yourself when you see him, John. I'd wager he'll pester you soon enough.

EB: :(

TT: Also, don't fret about trivial things.

EB: what are you talking about!

TT: You won't know where he stands until you ask the questions. Good luck.

\--tentacleTherapist  [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:45--

You stare at your computer, wondering how she does that. Has she read you even further than she let on? Does she know about something you don't? Why does talking to her always make you think about this stuff!

And then, another message pops up, bringing you back to reality.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:47--

TG: fuck airplanes

TG: fuck them all the way and not call them back ever

EB: bad flight?

TG: long story short

TG: somehow when i put my suitcase in the compartment above the seat i failed to notice i had a guest

EB: uh…

TG: fucking cal egbert

TG: fucking cal was in my fucking suitcase

TG: and that puppet bastard fell on me while i was listening to the set im using for this gig causing me to make a scene

TG: have you ever made a scene on an airplane

TG: people tend to notice

EB: oh my god.

TG: what

EB: this is hilarious.

TG: fuck you too

EB: so what are you doing now?

TG: hailing a cab while plotting revenge

EB: hey! i only laughed because it was funny! that hardly merits revenge!

TG: not against you dork against my bro

TG: he knew this would happen

TG: when the fuck was he near my suitcase is what id like to know

EB: probably at your place?

TG: christ hes probably setting traps all over my place as we speak

EB: hehehehehehe.

TG: the things i go through to see you

TG: you better feel goddamn special egderp

EB: oh no you don't, you're only coming here for your gig. you're not guilt tripping me!

TG: and now the cab driver is talking about his family

TG: no one cares about your kids or your wife or your picket fence house

TG: oh my god

TG: hes not stopping why do I deserve this

TG: cal and a deranged family man in one day this is not going well

You laugh quietly to yourself as he keeps going. One thing about Dave you've always found admirable was his ability to hold a conversation with himself. He's not going to stop until you interrupt him, but you're enjoying this particular rant too much to think about doing so.

TG: im about to chew my own face off here

TG: maybe that will make him shut up

TG: wait who am i kidding thats his goal

TG: even without a face id still be pretty kickass

TG: would you still love me egbert

EB: no. it's all about your face, strider.

TG: well damn

TG: im getting out btw

TG: outside your building as we speak

Your heart skips a few beats, and the air seems to rush out of the room. He's still typing, but that's nothing new. He'll keep on for a while. You'd already forgotten how close he was to you, and that he had your address. He's had your address since you were kids; that's how you sent gifts. Where did you think he was going?! He came to see you! Of course he's outside, you dork!

Again, you wonder who you're talking to.

You jump up from the computer desk and sprint towards the door, but alas, you are clumsy as fuck. Your feet are not accustomed to fast movements, and betray you. It seems while you were talking to Dave, you somehow managed to tangle your feet in the wires of your computer speakers, and now, it's almost like you just ran straight into a trip wire. Toppling over, you bring your speakers with you, but at least the monitor is safe. With a resounding crash, you land under the desk, and stay there for a moment, grateful that no one saw that.

Getting up from the floor, you make your way to the door, wondering what the dragging noise behind you is. As soon as you wrench it open, you're face to face with the guy behind the red text for the first time ever, and you're completely speechless.

His hair is light blonde, and is disheveled in a way that you can't tell if it's supposed to be styled or not. You know that's how he wants people to feel about it. He and his irony. On his nose are the Ben Stiller shades you gave him all those years ago, covering his eyes from you. His shirt is white with red sleeves, a broken record in the center of his chest. His hand is raised as if he were about to knock, and his eyebrows are high above his sunglasses as he observes you.

"Still haven't gone wireless, huh?" he asks, and you look at your feet to see the wires are still wrapped around one of your ankles. You dragged the speakers all across the apartment with you in your hurry to greet him.

"Dammit," you curse, shaking your leg to try and sling them off, but to no avail. Finally, you pull your leg up so you can reach the godforsaken things, lose balance, and begin hopping to try and save yourself. A warm hand is placed on your shoulder, and another goes to the wires to disentangle them. You're embarrassed as hell that this is his first impression of you while he looks so awesome. Fuck your life. Fuck your life like Dave wants life to fuck airplanes.

"Seriously, how do you dress yourself? Isn't everything here like a murder weapon if you have no coordination?" Dave asks you, still with his poker face on. The only indications of his amusement are his raised eyebrows.

"Shut up," you mutter, kicking the wires for good measure before looking back, and slightly up at him. He's also taller than you. And damn, does he look so good in those shades…better than Stiller ever thought of looking. Realizing you're staring, you quickly shove yourself in his arms because of the stupid conversations you used to have as kids. You told him if you ever saw him person, you were going to give him a huge bro hug, and he told you to make sure it was as awkward as possible.

"I'm so glad to see you!" you say truthfully, squeezing him around the neck. He hums in agreement, his arms sliding around your waist. You're glad he seems to remember the promise you made way back when. Or maybe he's just open to hugs, you aren't sure. You're not as good at reading people as Rose.

"Same here, Egderp," he says.

"Stridork."

"I'm not the one who carried my whole damn computer to greet you."

"It was just the speakers!"

You're laughing like a loser, because of how natural this is coming. It's awkward, yes, but it's also comfortable. In this room, with a guy who knows everything about you, and you about him. Well, okay, you know what he lets you know about him. Either way, you're happy as can be, and because of this, you don't register exactly how long this hug is becoming. Finally, your attention is drawn to his suitcases.

"Where's all your equipment?" you ask.

"I had it sent to the club already. No use carrying that shit all the way here, trust me. 'S expensive as hell, I'm not going to risk it."

"You have an accent," you laugh.

"Fuck you, I do not."

"I do not," you repeat, imitating his Texan drawl. And then his hands are at your sides, tickling you while pushing you away, and you're still laughing because he most certainly does have an accent, and it's the cutest fucking thing ever.

In fact, you think while you watch him kick the case you can only assume Cal is in against the wall, you might even tell him so. Imitating his accent, of course.


	3. The Futile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shit! Nothing makes sense! So I won't think about it. I'll go with the ignorance! Eat, sleep, fuck and flee! In four words, that's me. I am full of indifference!"-Say Anything "The Futile".

Whoa, you're suddenly so cool, you must be Dave Strider. As a matter of fact, you know you're Dave Strider. It's been decided.

While John babbles about all of the posters on the walls, tells you what movies they're from, which scenes were his favorite, and what actors he had a total hetero-crush on, you can't help but let your mind wander. It's not really your fault. Creative minds like yours are always on the run.

First of all, you're still reeling about the fact you're here, in the flesh, with Egbert. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you found yourself so full of need to talk to someone, you had contacted the last person you probably should have. Damn woman thinks she knows everything, and the conversation you two had early in the morning is still fresh on your mind, making it hard for you to look John in the eyes.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:19--

TG: sup

TT: Doth mine eyes deceive me? Am I being pestered by none other than the infamous David Strider?

TG: say youre a real riot there

TG: maybe even a hoot if you dont mind the vernacular

TT: I do not mind the vernacular. To what do I owe the pleasure?

TG: cant a guy just contact the best girl in his life for a conversation

TG: cmon youre not being very peachy

TT: For starters, I haven't heard from you in weeks, and Jade has told me the same. And also, isn't it around 10am your time? You're never up so early.

TG: oh yeah

TG: about that

TG: im getting ready to board a plane you know go see a friend

TG: nbd

TT: It's John, isn't it?

TG: wtf

TT: Am I wrong?

TG: how do you do that

TT: I know you think you're impossible to read, but I like to think of myself as immune to your "Strider Charms". We both know what this trip is about.

TG: yeah its about a gig im playing and seeing my best bro along the way

TG: i love how you always jump to the worst possible conclusion

TT: Notice how I never even said why I think you're going. You did that for the both of us, which can only mean you're already entertaining those thoughts. Should I warn John of your depravity?

TG: jesus fuckin christ

TG: here i thought we could have a normal conversation for once without your thoughts about how im subconsciously longing to ravish egderp

TG: my bad

TT: Sometimes I wonder how you can type so fast for your little rants. I can barely get one word written in the time it takes you to write all that.

TT: Furthermore, you only rant when you're nervous or excited, and since you always try to hide both of those emotions, I'm supposing it's all due to your impending visit to John. How is he taking the news?

TG: he doesnt know yet

TT: Are you serious?

TG: i thought it would be sweet to surprise him so hes not all freaking out before i even get there

TT: You do realize he has a job? And school?

TG: no really i had no clue

TG: i only talked to him last night about his shitty job god forbid i think he could use a break

TG: and hes on spring break all week from school so its no sweat

TT: How are you going to get his manager to give him time off? John has always told me his boss is an absolute terror.

TG: ill figure something out

TG: anyway

TG: figured id let you know whats up from my end cause i knew if john told you first youd fill his head with this nonsense of yours

TT: I still haven't said anything nonsensical.

TG: everything you say is nonsensical therapy bullshit

TT: And there go your defenses.

TG: oh man youre still going

TT: Look, all I'm saying is you only contact me when you want advice about something, and before you say anything about that, no, I don't take offense to it. I like being the one you can come to, but I don't expect contact every day. It's unlike you.

TT: Unlike you to everyone except John Egbert. We both know it's been that way for a long time.

TG: and it gets better and better huh

TT: Do you still have that picture of him in your wallet?

TG: goddamn how do you know these things

TT: I didn't. I knew you saved the picture, but I didn't know it was on your person. Bravo.

TG: well now that im sufficiently knocked off my pedestal i think im gonna finish packing and what not

TG: salways a pleasure lalonde

TT: Alright, I realize we're not going to get anywhere else this time. I shall let you pester me whenever you feel the need.

TG: im so privileged

TT: Oh, and Dave?

TG: what

TT: Try to keep your urges under wraps, if you get my drift. John is much cuter than he used to be.

TT: Peace out, dog.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:37--

So here you are now, this conversation fresh on your mind, as well as all the others Rose tries to shove down your throat. And she wonders why you don't contact her as often as you used to. As far as you're concerned, she's always trying to project hers and Kanaya's relationship onto other people. Sure, they were friends first, but that might not work for everybody. At first you had hoped this was a phase of hers, but she still does it every time you two talk. You wonder why you even contacted her.

"Yoo-hoo! Daaaave!" A voice calls. Your attention is drawn back to John, who you realize you were staring at the entire time you were thinking about Rose. Good thing he can't tell because of your shades, or he might have noticed the ogling you've been doing. Begrudgingly, you can admit Lalonde was right-about one thing, at least. John Egbert was cuter than he used to be. And since he was already on par with kittens in Christmas stockings before, you can't even begin to fathom where that places him now.

As soon as you saw him, that pit in your stomach seemed to disappear. You felt warm near him, and comfortable despite just meeting in person. He was the same derpy kid you imagined behind the blue text, only enhanced. His wide, too blue eyes looked up at you with admiration, like you were the most awesome thing he'd ever seen. His black hair seemed to go every which way, and its desire to not be styled was a style in itself. You'd have to gel the hell out of yours to achieve the same look. Even his thick rimmed spectacles seemed to suit him, and you almost couldn't think of him any other way.

This is John Egbert, you had thought to yourself when he hugged you without warning. This is…a problem.

"Are you even paying attention to me?!" he yelped, smacking you lightly on the arm.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was lost in your rant about Nic Cage somewhere around the time you said you wanted to die in his hairy man arms," you reply, shaking your head to avoid looking in his eyes as he puffed up defensively at your words.

"I did not say that!"

"Of all the men to have a crush on, you choose that horse-faced bastard. Have you not seen the memes where people glue his face to random things? I saw one the other day where this little girl put on a headband, and when she looked up, her face was Nic Cage's gaunt looking mug. Shit gave me nightmares, bro. And here you have it all over your walls."

"You're such a loser, Dave," John sighs. "He's obviously handsome, otherwise he wouldn't be so popular with the ladies."

"I'm gonna have nightmares. Shell-shocked, Egbert. I'll get home and see his face everywhere."

"You're already screwed up anyway because of Smuppets. Cage can be further down on your list," he says with a 'hmph' at the end. You can't help but think of how cute he looks like that.

"So," you say, walking around him, "what's on the agenda for today?"

"Well I don't know. Maybe if I was given some warning about the visit…"

"Blah, blah, I know. Rose said basically the same thing. I figured you wouldn't mind, my bad."

"I don't mind!" he yelps hurriedly, eyes going even wider and locking on your face. "I'm really glad to see you, I swear! I'm just… You're gonna be bored."

"Nah."

"Uh, yeah, you will. I have to work tomorrow night, and every night until next week. I'll miss your gig too. I can't even go."

"I'm taking care of that later, don't sweat it. You gotta go with, dude. It's one of the things I was most looking forward to. You're not gonna deny that from me, are you?"

"Karkat is insane. He's not going to let me off."

"We'll see. Look, why don't we go get some food and you can show me around. I'd much rather drive around with you than Cabbie nevershutsthefuckup McGee. Shit was mind-numbing, man. If I'm ever that happy about a picket fence, I'm gonna kill myself and do the world a favor."

John is laughing at you again, and you realize you really like the sound. You want to keep him smiling, if you can. He nods, and goes to grab his keys and wallet from the computer desk, and you can't help but smirk as he side-steps the wires, eyeing them warily. Goddamn, he's too fucking cute.

Somewhere, you just know Lalonde is having a field day.


	4. It's Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So this is what you meant when you said that you were spent. And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit right to the top. Don't hold back. Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain check. I don't ever wanna let you down. I don't ever wanna leave this town. 'Cause after all this city never sleeps at night."- Imagine Dragons "It's Time".

You're John Egbert, and you're beyond nervous.

You've come to terms with it. Who wouldn't be nervous with someone like Dave in their passenger seat? The blonde hadn't said a word when he saw your car. His eyebrow simply rose above his shades, and he had shaken his head, but he didn't say a word. You drive a bright green Prius, and you're actually very happy with it, since it had been a graduation present from your father. You've offered to make payments, but your dad seems to have realized you have enough going on. Some months, just keeping a roof over your head is a challenge. But, anyway, as said before, you're nervous.

Dave is casual, as per usual. He's prattling on cheerfully from beside you, commenting on things he sees. You're surprised he hasn't turned on the radio, or hooked his phone to your speakers yet. He's just talking to you, and you're having a bit of a mental breakdown because you can't think of responses witty enough. This is so much harder than chatting online! He's just so…intimidating, and you know he'd never want you to think of him that way, so you keep quiet, but damn it all if you're not having a hard time gripping the steering wheel because of your sweaty palms- and Dave's not helping.

He seems to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Just in the span of this ten minute drive into traffic, he's clapped your shoulder three times, patted your thigh once, and even grabbed your hand to comment on your man-handling of the steering wheel, saying you were "strangling it like a bitch who owes you money". So needless to say, your head is swimming with thoughts that are borderline overwhelming while Dave is chill as can be, now going through your CD collection in the big case you usually keep crammed under your seat. He pauses, and you look over as the car comes to a halt at a red light.

"Bro. Please…just please, tell me this isn't what I think it is," he says in a deadpan voice.

"What?"

"Celine Dion? Celine fucking Dion? No one has a Celine Dion CD in their car except for Celine Dion. This is a cry for help, Egbert. I'm concerned."

"Shut up, okay? I like her! And you said her name more in one sentence than I've ever said in my life!"

"Whatever, man, I'm putting it in."

"You're the one hating on her!"

"I know, but this is just lame enough to be cool. Two bros, jammin' to Dion, the lead lady in non-platonic bromance. Well, 'cept for Streisand. If you have her in this car, I'll pray for you."

You're laughing at this nonsense, and it feels good to focus on more than your nerves.

"Are you being for real right now?" you ask him. He looks over at you.

"Shit's legit, John. You could say…Dion makes my heart go on." And suddenly, that song is blaring on your speakers, and he's smirking over at you, and you're laughing hysterically because of what a fucking dork he is. He leans forward to turn up the volume even more, and it's so loud you can't even hear yourself think anymore.

It starts small, just him making dramatic motions to the lyrics, and you grin over to him every now and then while singing under your breath. And then he rolls into a flat out performance, and is soon moving his limbs in what can only be described as flailing, and is in no way whatsoever in sync with the rhythm of the song. You're now cackling so hard it hurts, and it's only fueling him on more. By the time the song reaches the second chorus, you're both screaming the lyrics, and Dave is still flailing- slam dancing, he calls it- and has grabbed your hand so you're both jerking around in the car, and it's definitely drawing attention.

At a red light, you're aware of the car next to you, and its occupants are eyeing you with grim looks on their faces. At first, you're confused, because sure you guys are being disrupted, but not enough to warrant those kinds of stares. Then you realize they can see your hand entwined with Dave's (because he's still waving them around in the air like a madman) and are probably assuming you two are a couple. You blush furiously, your euphoria dwindling just a little. As if on cue, you find yourself with a lapful of Strider, who decides to serenade the car next to you by leaning over you and shouting the lyrics at them. By the time you're driving away, he's flipping them off, and then plants a very deliberate kiss on your cheek so they can see- which he finds hilarious. To you, it's only more confusing.

The song ends, and he turns the volume back down, claiming he's had had enough.

"That's enough Dion to last an eon," he smirks, and you roll your eyes.

"Don't start with your mess," you say. "Those raps aren't as great as you think."

"My mess is the best. Makes bitches come undressed."

"Dave."

"Say 'Strider, I gotta confess. Got shit to get off my chest'. Check out those awesome breasts."

"Dave."

"Egbert be hating because his pool's a wading while Dave sits in…the deep end? No, shit, hang on, that was weak."

"All of this is weak. All of it. I'm thinking of this in your red text, and normally, I just skip over all of it and wait for you to shut up, but you never do. It just keeps going. I wake up with fifty unread messages from you, all raps, the majority of them you correcting yourself."

"You don't read those? Some of 'em are gold, Egderp. And I gotta argue with myself sometimes. Keeps me in line."

"Like you don't skip over my rants," you say sarcastically.

"Only if they're about Cage. I tried toughing it out, but…it was too hard. I couldn't do it anymore," he sighs dramatically. His head rolls towards you, and he's staring again. Or at least you think he is. How badly you wish those damn shades weren't attached to his face right now- though it's really heartwarming he wears them all the time. You gave those to him. Still, you wish you could see his expression so you might get an idea of what he's thinking. Every time his head turns towards you, it's disconcerting that you can't tell if he's looking at you, or over you, or not at anything at all.

"You're still the same," he says after a minute, confirming he was looking at you. "Older looking, but still the same."

"What are you babbling about over there?" you ask. "Same as what?"

"Nothing," he answers as you pull the car into a Burger King parking lot. "I'm fucking starving." And then he gets out of the car, and motions for you to hurry up. Sighing, you exit the vehicle as well, and walk around to join him as you both enter the restaurant together. He holds the door open for you.

"Such a southern gentleman," you smile, ducking under his arm. He scowls at you.

"It's called manners. I hold doors open for ladies."

"…Are you calling me a girl?"

"Nope, but you just did."

You hit him in the side, muttering under your breath about jerks, and he casually drapes his long arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. You've decided he's just touchy-feely with everyone. That has to be it, right? Otherwise why would he touch you so much? It must be a bro thing, you decide.

"Oh, man, I'm so hungry right now, it's sad," Dave drawls. "They're gonna write songs about it. Movies, even. First film called, The Hunger, starring Ben Stiller." You laugh at him as you scan over the menu, assuming he's doing the same behind his shades. "And then there will be a sequel. Then a sequel to the sequel, and they'll all suck as bad as the first one."

"You could switch it up and make something good," you suggest. His arm tightens around you, making you stumble.

"All my genius goes to my music," he informs you. "My movie ideas are pure shit, but will be seen as the shit. You'll see, John. My name will be everywhere. In lights. Everyone in Hollywood will have to wear shades because of all the goddamn lights spelling Strider."

"If I posted a video online of your slam-dancing, you'd be that famous by tomorrow."

"Patience. Slam-dancing is an art. I can't show everyone my tricks."

You both place your order after the person ahead of you is served. To your surprise, Dave's arm stays slung over your shoulder. He pulls his wallet out and pays for everything, and you put up a fuss, but he shushes you, squeezing your face between his hands and making a cooing noise while you helplessly swat at him. The cashier eyes you, but not in a bad way. She's smiling at you.

"Are you guys together?" she asks in a somewhat hopeful voice.

"Sure are," Dave says. "Walked in together and everything."

"Dave! She means-!"

"I know what she meant," he smirks at you. "The answer's the same." And with that, he removes his arm from your person, and grabs the tray. The girl behind the counter is smiling widely, and you're grumbling as you follow, making it a point to kick him under the table as you join him in a booth. He simply steals one of your fries.

"You're the same too," you tell him after a few quiet moments. He looks up at you, you assume. Damn shades.

"Huh?"

"You're pretty much how I thought you'd be in person, save for the Dion serenade. I was right to think you were actually a total loser though," you laugh, taking a bite of your chicken fries. "The cool kid behind the red text is actually a total dork. I should write a memoir."

"More like so awesome your little geek brain can't handle it," he corrects, taking a huge bite of his burger. "'Sides, you're craving this all over you, don't deny."

"You're so right. I'm so into you, I can't stand it."

"Damn straight." He steals another fry from you. "What time you working tomorrow?"

"I go in at five pm."

"What time you off?"

"Not till after midnight."

"Jesus, Egbert."

"Yeah, well, I've got bills to pay. Sucks though. Your gig is the day after tomorrow, right?" you ask, pulling your food out of Dave's reach, since he can't seem to stick to his own order.

"Yup. You're gonna be there. Front row."

"Are there rows in clubs?"

"Don't change the subject. I gotta look into your dorky face while I'm mixing rad beats. It'll be a tragedy if some slutty chick gets the extent of my cool kid brooding while you're peddling comic books for a psychopath."

"I want to go, Dave. I do. I'll talk to Karkat tomorrow night. Maybe I can switch shifts."

"Let's swing by after we eat. I'll talk to him."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it's my job on the line, and you're an asshole."

"I'm wounded."

"Fuck you."

Dave reaches over to steal another fry. You slap his hand away, and he slaps yours back.

"C'mon, I'll be good. I actually wanted to meet this freak. It's on my list of things to do while visiting," he says. "And the sooner you tell him, the more likely you'll get the night off, so he can cover your shift."

You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. So instead, you steal one of his fries for a change, and give a curt nod. Dave jerks your hand toward his mouth and eats the pilfered fry out of your hand, and everything is way too hot as you watch him chew it, and suddenly you're not as hungry as you were before. Wordlessly, you shove your food toward him, and he chuckles, but asks no questions. You swear you hear him call you cute, but his mouth never moves.

On the way to the comic store, Dave drives while you give directions. He informed you that your 'granny' driving was causing him to age too rapidly, so you just let him handle it. Now, you're wishing you didn't, because he's driving like a fucking lunatic. He runs a yellow light right as it turns red, and you're pretty sure people aren't supposed to race in a Prius. You tell him so.

"I'm making this bitch fly. Priuses never looked so good," he says.

You're going to die, you just know it. Here, next to Dave Strider, who you can't decide whether or not is cool or crazy. This is the end.

Then you're slammed into a parking place with no scratches on you or your beloved green Prius, and his parking job is so effortless, even though it's parallel, and you decide he's probably an excellent driver, but was trying to scare you. That makes him an asshole too.

"Can I interest you in motherfuckin' comic book?" A voice calls from behind the counter as the door dings behind you.

"No, Gamzee," you sigh. You're always correcting him when he calls that out to customers, but he never listens. You see his crazy hair before you see his face, and then he's standing up, looming over you.

"John! I was just thinking about you. Fucking miracles, my brother."

"Yeah, uh, where's Karkat?" you ask, looking around.

"Getting his motherfuckin' smoke on. You know how he gets without his smokes."

"More unbearable than normal?" you joke, and Gamzee laughs loudly, drawing an incredulous stare from Dave.

"Gamzee, you insufferable piece of shit, didn't I tell you to restock the back shelf?"

You all turn to observe a short, but intimidating man approach, and you sigh audibly. Gamzee smiles widely.

"John's here."

"When is he not here?" Karkat grumbles. "I swear, Egbert, you're always bitching about work, and yet, here you are. Are you here to take over for Gamzee? Because it'd be nice to have someone halfway competent on the clock."

"Uh, no, I'm, uh… I'm here to…"

"You need to be chill, my brother," Gamzee says, and you're really not in the mood for the chill speech right now, but he's not stopping. "Your motherfuckin' smokes didn't chill you the fuck out?"

"There are more words in the English language than 'fuck'. I suggest you learn them, you cock-swallowing, garbage licking shit," Karkat snaps.

"So, I'm here to-" you start.

"See, this is what I'm fuckin' talking about. You're so tense. Want a back rub?"

"GO STOCK THE GODDAMN BACK SHELF BEFORE I RIP OUT YOUR SPINAL CORD AND SLAP YOU WITH IT!"

"Jesus. What's with the motherfuckin' volume?"

And that's when the books start flying as Karkat flings them at the taller male, who slowly walks towards the back shelf, but doesn't stock it. He simply stands there. Your face is in your hands, and Dave is looking like Christmas has come early, and you just want to die, because this shit is your life. Karkat turns haughtily towards you.

"Egbert, if you don't tell me why you're here, I'm making you work, because so help me, if that FUCKING SHELF doesn't get stocked, I'm closing the store. You know, the one that keeps you employed? Do you want that to happen? Because Gamzee can't focus long enough to do two things at once, and breathing seems to take up all his time."

Your face is still hidden, and your voice is muffled.

"I need Thursday off."

"I'm sorry, what was that? I don't understand mumbles from a moron."

"I need Thursday off," you say again, lifting your head to look at him. "I'll work another shift, any shift you want me to- I just need that night off."

"Oh, Gamzee, did you hear that? We can all just cancel anything WE might have going on Thursday, because we're going to be working. As a matter of fact, why don't we just close the store, and all have Thursday off? And every day after that? Is that enough time off for you?"

"Karkat, come on! I never ask you for time off!"

"Because this is a job! You're not supposed to want time off if you need money!"

"I do want money! I said I'd swap shifts!"

"I can't swap shifts with anyone because it's just us three here, and Gamzee's a goddamn moron!"

"I motherfuckin' resent that."

"IF YOU DON'T PUT THOSE BOOKS ON THAT FUCKING SHELF, SO HELP ME I WILL KLL YOU, BRING YOU BACK TO LIFE, AND KILL YOU AGAIN!"

Dave chuckles, and, as if just alerted of his presence, Karkat's gaze turns to him.

"Who is this?"

"Dave Strider," the blonde says. "Don't mind me, just enjoying the show."

"Good to meet you, my brother!" Gamzee's voice calls over. "John's talking about you nonstop, man. Be getting my heart vibes all rapid and shit."

"Talks about me, huh?" Dave smirks, and you're sure you're going to die.

"Sure thing, motherfucker."

You make a high-pitched wailing noise, over 300% done with this conversation, and turn to Karkat.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"NO."

"He said please, motherfucker."

"HE'LL BE SAYING DEAD ASSHOLE FOUND IN COMIC BOOK STORE IF YOU DON'T DO YOUR FUCKING JOB."

"Okay, so here's the thing," Dave says, leaning on the counter. "I gotta gig in Seattle Thursday, and John here is my main man. I kinda sprung this shit on him last minute, so it's on me that this is so sudden, but I need him that night. And since you get him all the time, I think you should share."

"Oh, is this the internet friend you're always prattling about, Egbert?" Karkat asks suddenly. You nod with your face behind your hands again. So you talk about Dave at work. So what? Don't bros always talk about each other?

"Yeah, so, if you could just sign up the 'motherfucker' guy to work an extra shift, that'd be great," Dave says.

"I'm sorry, are you telling me how to do my job?"

"Karkaaaaaaaaaat," you whine. "C'mon, he's being serious."

"So am I. And you want to know a secret? I'm not really sorry. I know it's ripping your heart out, Strider, but your little boyfriend has work."

"Okay," Dave sighs, "what if I give you a hundred Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff T-shirts to sell, free of charge?"

Karkat looks at him like he's on fire. "The internet comic?"

"Yeah, funny story, I wrote it. I can easily print out a few shitty images, slam 'em on a shirt, and send the creation here. I'll even act like I planned it. It'll sell off your shelves so fast, shit'll give you whiplash. Bitches'll be throwing you cash."

"Dave, oh my god, this is not the time for your shitty rhymes," you hiss.

"It's always time for a rhyme. And yours are shitty, not mine. The print is there, and it's fine, so whaddaya say, Karkat, will your business be mine?"

"Testify, my brother!" Gamzee calls. Karkat's head whips towards him, and then back to Dave, and you're wondering for a moment if that vein in his eye is finally going to pop.

"Fine, FINE. One hundred shirts, just because it's a popular comic for whatever fucking reason. And I'm not paying you shit in royalties. You two can enjoy your little cock-sucking fest backstage while I'm stuck here with Gamzee can't-do-a-goddamn-thing Makara. Sounds great, really."

"Sweet," Dave says, shrugging an arm around you again; this time it's on your waist as he leads you out the door. You turn to tell Karkat you'll be at work tomorrow, and he waves you away in a jerking motion while heading on a war path towards Gamzee. You're barely aware of the butterflies in your stomach for the shouting.

"FUCKING TESTICLE LICKING FUCKWAD! WHAT IF I JUST SNAPPED YOUR NECK IN HALF AND STAPLED YOUR CHEEK TO YOUR USELESS JAW? HUH? YOU COULDN'T BE ANY WORSE OF AN EMPLOYEE THAN YOU ARE NOW. I'LL MAKE A GODDAMN GAMZEE PUPPET, AND THE CUSTOMERS WILL BE CONFUSED BY THE AMOUNT OF IMPROVEMENT IN YOUR PERSONALITY!"

"Sometimes you just gotta do what feels right, motherfucker."


	5. Loretta Young Silks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Got answers for everyone. Endless excuses. Not habit for anyone 'cos I'm trying to break your click track heart. Seen a vision of perfect grace, airbrushed and lifeless. All contempt and aftertaste. It's like I'm waiting for the scars to heal. You sew Loretta Young Silks, fashioning your self-escape. You sew Loretta Young Silks, trading on your super waif. All style before content, using me as bait. You sew Loretta Young Silks, swapping your love for hate."- The Sneaker Pimps "Loretta Young Silks".

You're Dave Strider, and you're (ironically) sprawled across John's lap. He didn't put up much of a resistance. Sure, he had made a small remark about how there was no need when his couch was more than big enough for the two of you to sit comfortably, but you had simply shushed him by squishing his face again. It seems to be a sure-fire way to shut him up. He gets all flustered and stops talking, which is aye-okay with you. So now your head is in his lap, and your shades are safely on the coffee table while you do your best not to eat your own face because of the shit-poor movie Egbert put in.

It wasn't a Cage film- you had flat out refused. John had argued a little until you threatened suicide. Anything is better than Nic Cage. Anything. You would rather pull Cal out of the piles of suitcases and John's laundry you had safely buried him under, and fucking dance with him than watch Nic Cage's eyebrows move closer and closer together. John had made an exasperated noise, and chose something else. So now you're stuck with the lesser of two evils, though by a small margin, and you're watching Matthew McConaughey work his way around vowels like it's physically strenuous for him to do so. You sigh dramatically.

"John. Johnny-Boy. Eggman, I'm fucking _dying_."

"Shut up, Dave. I'm trying to watch the movie."

"You're not being very host-like to your guest. In my neck of the woods, I woulda offered you some sweet tea, let you pick the movie, and saved your ass from Bro by now. You've done none of these things for me. Be gettin' a single tear from my eye here, man."

"How am I supposed to save you from your brother? That makes no sense. But I did offer my clothes to help bury Cal in since you wouldn't stop casting your suitcase glances like it was about to explode, so I saved you kind of," John says with his eyes still glued to the screen. You can barely make them out for the glare on his glasses, and it reminds you that you aren't wearing yours.

There wasn't any dramatic reveal. There was no moment of silent contemplation before you'd taken them off. John had known your eyes were red. He had known for years. You'd told him online, and even then, all he'd said was, 'red? whoa, like, naturally? that's so awesome!' You'd known then that he wasn't like everyone else. He was someone you could be yourself with, be comfortable with, so there was no hesitation at all to remove your shades. He hadn't stared, hadn't even tossed you a second glance. He had simply smiled when you sat up to place them on the table, and then patted his thigh with a derpy look on his face, signaling he was okay with you (still ironically) lounging on him.

Now though, you're envious that you can't see his eyes as well as he can see yours. It seems you're both going to be forced to look at each other through a glass barrier forever. You're not even sure if he can see without his glasses, or if he's just far-sighted or something. You'll have to ask him later when he's not drooling over McCluster-Fuck. Which he is clearly doing.

"Could you stare anymore longingly at that dickweed?" you ask, reaching up to poke his face. John swats your hand away.

"You're just jealous that someone else is holding my attention! Now shush!"

"Oh, hell no, I am not jealous of that weird accented douche. I'm simply amazed at your ability to stare at him like he's made of fucking Gushers or something. Dude's got a face like a crack addict walrus."

"He is totally good-looking, Dave. I don't know what you think is handsome in a guy if you can't see that."

You stare at him for a moment, wondering how he can constantly claim heterosexuality when he says things like that. Then, you allow your eyes to trail over his face, scanning the porcelain skin there. He's not nearly as pale as you, but he's not tan either. You'd suppose living in a place like Washington where it's always raining would do that to a person. In your case, you just avoid the sun because you're nocturnal as fuck, but that's another story. Your eyes travel down to his neck, then his collarbones, which are very prominent. The rest of your view is obstructed by his clothing, and you suddenly wish there weren't so many layers between you. John is short, but he's intimidating to you in a way. He's pale, but he's bright. He's thin, and his hands are small, and his feet are big, but he's adorable in a way that you and your irony can't even begin to define- which is ironic in itself. He's everything you thought he would be, but he's more, and suddenly you're afraid of this- of this closeness. He's like a goddamn gravity pit, pulling you in, lulling you into security. And you're oddly okay with that even if it's scary. He blinks down at you.

"Are you spacing out down there?" he laughs. "I know it's not your thing, but you could at least watch the movie and give it a chance." His fingers brush your hair away from your forehead, and keep pulling in a gentle motion. He's petting you, and you're letting him. Inhaling sharply, you tear your eyes away from his face.

"McConaughey ain't got shit on you," you say quietly.

"Eh? What'd you say?"

"I said my brainwaves are shit now, and I think my host should make me popcorn."

After a few movies, all shittier than the last because John Egbert seems incapable of liking anything remotely good, he's nodding off above you. His hand has long since ceased petting you, and the movie is back on the title screen, replaying over and over again because you're not stopping it. John's leaned over you, his arms crossed over your abdomen with his face hidden in them. You can feel his breaths through your shirt, but still, you're not moving. This time, it's your hand in his hair, and you're marveling at how soft it is despite the fact that it's sticking straight up.

"Mmm…feels good, Dave," he mumbles, halfway awake, but slipping fast, and you bite your lip because of this ridiculous situation.

"John? C'mon, bro. You need to get in your bed," you say gently.

"No. 'M gonna take the couch… You're the guest, so you can sleep in my bed," he slurs.

"No way, man. Y'know I was kidding about that hospitality shit, right? I sprung this trip on you, so I'm not taking your bed too. I'll take the couch."

He lifts his head, and his glasses are hanging down almost past his nose. His wide eyes are looking straight into yours without any glass barriers in the way, and it takes your breath away from the sincerity in his gaze. You're not used to this, to seeing people without your safety net, but you could get used to it in this case. You scramble to remove yourself from his way so he can make it to bed. He stands, wobbling a little on his feet, and then stumbles towards his bed. His apartment is a studio, so it's all one large room, the bed in the far corner. You watch as he falls unceremoniously into the sheets, still fully-dressed. Sighing, you make your way over to him, and poke his face again.

"Aren't you gonna get comfy or something? C'mon, you're even wearing your glasses to bed? Do you wanna break them in your sleep and lose an eye or something? 'Cause I swear if I wake up in the middle of the night and you're missing an eye, lids will be flipped, John. Scenes will be caused. I'll scream your name so loud and emotional, Shatner will roll up in here demanding I scream 'Kahn' for him."

"You're such a dweeb," John giggles sleepily, removing his glasses and kicking off his pants, and you definitely aren't looking, nope. When he's safely under the covers, you're making your way back to the couch, only to be hit with something when it makes contact with the back of your head. You hear John laughing from the corner. He threw a pillow at you.

"There's some spare blankets in the bathroom closet," he tells you helpfully. "In case you get cold."

You stifle the urge to throw the pillow back at him in retaliation, and flop on the couch. "I don't need a blanket. Striders run hot, yo. This hot bod is all heated and warm like a furnace."

"I know," John says, "my legs are sweating where you were on me."

"See man? Space heater, here."

"Maybe you just sucked up all the heat from Texas and brought it here?"

"Could be. Now get some Z's, Eg-bear. Can't have your crazy shaving cream wielding father hunting me down, saying I kept you from sleeping and stunted your growth even more."

"I'm twenty-two, Dave. I don't think that's going to happen."

"You never know. My bro is almost thirty, and if he thinks I'm losing sleep, he shoves a Smuppet down my pants."

John laughs loudly, and you can hear his legs hitting the bed as he flails them around in his laughter fit.

"Oh my god, Dave. _Dave_ , what a childhood you must've had! This is great."

"Fuck you, man. It's impossible to be cool and calm when you're facing a puppet with an ass bigger than yours. I'll have you know I was brave as hell to stay up late and talk to your geek self while dodging sexual dolls left and right. Shit's traumatizing as hell."

John is still laughing, but then it gets quiet in the small space, so you know he's succumbing to sleep again. In all honesty, you should be exhausted from the plane ride, but you're pretty wired right now. You reach for your phone to check your pesters, and hear a quiet snore from the corner.

"Goodnight, Egbert," you smirk.

\--

You wake up to see John's face mere inches from yours. Stifling an unmanly noise, you jump back, and he's laughing at you while you grope for your shades, suddenly more aware than ever that you're not wearing them.

"Oh, man, I wasn't trying to scare you!" he laughs. "Just thought I'd let you know I'm leaving for work now."

"Wha…? Thought you weren't going in till five?" you say, rubbing your eyes behind your specs.

"It's almost five, silly. Maybe you should sleep some more? You must be super tired, Dave. Plane rides do that. Anyway, I'll see you later!" He gives you another wide grin before turning to grab his keys from the counter, and stumbling when he tries to spin around to face you again. You can't help but smile at his lack of coordination, but he's out of the apartment before you can comment on it. You think he might be right about the sleep thing, because you're still tired as hell, so you pull the cover up to your chin and curl around it, before thinking idly that you never actually grabbed a blanket.

The next time you wake, it's because of an irritating noise. Groaning, you emerge from your blanket cocoon and reach blindly for your phone, remembering your shitty ringtone. It's a series of pesters, and the light from your screen is blinding for a moment as you try and read them.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 21:17--

TT: Are you enjoying your stay with John thus far?

TT: I've asked him, of course, but he's working and can only message me so quickly. He tells me he's really enjoying having you there.

TT: I can only assume you're sleeping, which isn't too surprising since it's almost time for you to crash like you normally do from lack of sleep. Your sleep pattern rivals that of a vampire bat, Dave.

You observe Rose's messages before you check the others, the bright green text taking a minute to get used to. Sometimes you think Jade might use that color just to bother you, because she knows it's hard as hell to read.

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 21:20--

GG: dave! youre there with john?

GG: thats so cuuuute!!!!!! <3

GG: since you never made the effort to visit me or rose im guessing you must REALLY like him?

GG: :D

TG: jade

TG: do you have any idea what time it is here

GG: uh… isnt it like 9?

TG: yes

TG: its too early for your neon shit

GG: :/

GG: GRUMPY!

GG: have you confessed your love to john yet? :)

TG: what is it with you and rose

TG: no

TG: girls in general

TG: why do you all think every bromance has to be non platonic

TG: its like two men look at each other in a show and suddenly its ship city theyre obviously in love

TG: and then god forbid they be in a scene with dialog together they must be getting married

GG: so you havent told him???

TG: no

GG: thats okay! you will!

TG: later jade

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 21:25--

Sighing, you scroll back up to answer Rose.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 21:25--

TG: so i just woke up

TG: and already im getting bombarded with estrogen from you and harley

TG: did i do something to deserve this as my life

TT: Oh, there you are.

TT: I was beginning to think you were going to sleep through the entire visit with John. But I suppose he would wake you up eventually.

TG: i deserve some r&r

TT: Yes, because you do so much.

TG: ill have you know it takes days to mix these sick fires for gigs

TT: And five entire minutes to create one of your comics?

TG: give me credit okay

TG: its like 4

TT: Oh, my apologies. By the way, you've not answered any of my previous questions. How are things with John?

TG: oh my god

TG: were getting married

TG: i gave him a fuckin ring pop smacked that shit right on his finger looked at him and said

TG: lets do this shit man

TG: and he was like hot damn and now were getting married

TT: So things are going good? I was proud to hear you were on the couch. I half expected you to slip into his bed during the night.

TG: no thats happening tonight

TG: but no funny stuff till the wedding

TG: which youre not invited to

TT: I'll learn to move past it.

TG: good

TT: I just thought I'd check in, but I have to get going now. Kanaya and I have plans. Do reconsider inviting me to the wedding though.

TG: no promises

TT: Oh well. John will invite me.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 21:34--

You roll over on the cushions, and realize you're entirely in the dark. It's pitch black in the apartment, save for the soft light coming from John's big ass computer. Placing your feet on the floor, you slowly stand up, and use your phone as a flashlight to make it to a light switch. You have a few hours until John gets home from work, and you just realized you're starving. 

His cabinets are full of junk food. You grin triumphantly when you come across a can of Chef Boyardee, because c'mon, dude is the shit, and then you rustle through the lower cabinets until you find a pot to cook it in. You're making your way back to the couch to watch TV, bowl of ravioli in hand, when you hear your phone jingle again. Picking it up with one hand, you examine the new pester.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:01--

EB: where is this alleged ring pop?

EB: i feel i should receive said ring pop if we're getting married!

TG: whoa man

TG: egbert is messaging me at work

TG: breaking rules and shit

EB: shut up! you owe me a ring.

TG: you can rest your pretty head

TG: knowing that this hunk of strider man meat will have a ring pop for you in the future

EB: a blue one.

TG: a fucking blue one

EB: :B

EB: i'll only say yes if it's blue!

TG: youd say yes if i proposed with a goddamn volleyball

EB: probably.

TG: so you talked to rose

EB: briefly! she had plans with kanaya. we're not doing much business tonight, but I didn't want to wake you up, so i was messaging her for a bit.

TG: im surprised karkat is letting you

EB: uh…

EB: he's not. i'm sneaking!

TG: holy shit

TG: this is a downward spiral young man

EB: shut the hell up!

EB: have you eaten?

TG: found some chef boyardee in the cabinets its like christmas up in here

EB: oh good. i realized i was working late way after i left, haha. i wanted to make sure there was food there! can't have my future husband starve!

TG: dont get me wrong

TG: it would be nice having my wife cook for me but hes at work

EB: HUSBAND!

TG: no way man you got wife written all over you

EB: hdkdoeednddoewnsdpMJJOKLOowelwmdedepsm

TG: whoa man it was a joke

TG: no need to go all parkinsons

EB: Is ThIs DAvE?

TG: uh

TG: yes

EB: hOw'S iT hAnGiNg MoThErFuCkEr?

TG: gamzee

EB: HoNk.

TG: so youve just taken johns phone huh

TG: claimed it for yourself

TG: made it down with the clown

EB: He HaD a CuStOmEr. MoThErFuCkEr LeFt HiS pHoNe.

TG: oh okay

TG: so karkat isnt around to boss yall around right now

EB: He'S aLl Up In HiS mOtHeRfUcKiN oFfICE.

TG: sweet

EB: :O)

TG: so uh

TG: hows the whole juggalo life treating you

EB: PrEtTy GoOd MoThErFuCkEr.

EB: LiFe GeTs AlL oVeRwHeLmInG aNd YoU jUsT sLaM a FaYgO.

TG: sounds enlightening

EB: mIrAcLeS mY bRoThEr.

TG: nice

EB: HoNk. ;O)

EB: shjesiswnddsoesdndsodsaaadddio

TG: oh man

EB: oh my god i'm so sorry. gamzee knows the pattern to unlock my phone somehow.

TG: its cool he was just telling me all about slamming faygos

EB: oh nice.

TG: so customer huh

EB: yeah! this guy wanted a classic x men comic.

EB: didn't even know any characters besides wolverine. it was almost a tragedy to sell it to him.

TG: there are more x men than wolverine?

EB: BLUH.

EB: oh man karkat is coming. see you at home!

TG: this makes me like an illicit mistress waiting for her lovers husband to leave

TG: im like just sitting here while you smooth things over with karkitty

TG: all bored and shit

EB: MY NAME IS NOT KARKITTY YOU MENTALLY RETARDED FUCK.

EB: YOU AND YOUR STUPID LITTLE FUCK BUDDY SHOULD KNOW WHEN ONE OF YOU HAS WORK. JUST BECAUSE HE'S OFF TOMORROW DOESN'T MEAN HE CAN TALK TO YOU WHENEVER.

EB: SOME OF US WORK FOR A LIVING.

TG: its work to sell comic books to dweebs in their forties?

EB: HA HA HA.

EB: THAT WAS FAKE BY THE WAY.

EB: YOU'RE ABOUT AS FUNNY AS LIGHTING MY NUTS ON FIRE. JUST LIGHTING THEM UP FOR FUN AND ROASTING MARSHMALLOWS OVER THEM.

TG: oh my god

EB: YOU WILL SEE HIM LATER. THIS IS RIDICULOUS. NEITHER OF YOU ARE INTERESTING ENOUGH FOR CONSTANT CONTACT. WHAT DO YOU EVEN TALK ABOUT? HOW MUCH YOU BOTH SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF THE UNIVERSE WITH YOUR MOUTH BREATHING?

TG: come on now karkitty

TG: im starting to think you might not love me as much as i hoped

EB: EAT SHIT AND DIE YOU RUPTURED PUS FILLED SORE.

TG: you win the prize for grossness

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:35--

You toss your phone on the cushion and place your now empty bowl on the coffee table. You finally turn on the TV to pass the few hours until John will be home. You get him all to yourself tomorrow, but you're trying not to get too riled up about that. 

so you havent told him? Jade had asked. You must be obvious as fuck to everyone except John, and oddly enough, yourself. No, you hadn't told him. Until meeting him, you didn't think there was anything to tell. But now… 

Yeah. Now. 


	6. Safe and Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I could lift you up. I could show you what you want to see and take you where you want to be. You could be my luck, even if the sky is falling down, I know that we'll be safe and sound. Safe and sound. I could fill your cup. You know my river won't evaporate this world we still appreciate. You could be my luck even in a hurricane of frowns, I know that we'll be safe and sound. Safe and sound, safe and sound. Safe and sound, safe and sound."- Capital Cities "Safe and Sound".

You're John Egbert, and you're bored as hell. Being stuck at work while your best bro is visiting isn't exactly your idea of a good time. Not to mention Karkat has been relentless because he's still pissed off about Dave bargaining for you to be off tomorrow, so your night has pretty much gone to shit before it even started.

You're slow tonight, which isn't surprising, since it's almost always slow in the store. Not many people appreciate comic books the way they used to. It's easier to read them online, but for you, it's never been the same. You enjoy the feel of them in your hands, and the ability to dog ear the pages, even though you know you're not supposed to. You're passionate about them, and you enjoy being surrounded by them, so you put up with all the shit your boss throws at you, because even Karkat Vantas can't destroy the serenity this place brings you. Still, tonight, you wish you were home with Dave. You might sneak and pester him later, but for now, you don't want to wake him up. He was pretty jetlagged.

You and Gamzee are behind the counter right now. Karkat is in the office. He goes in there sometimes to count the money from the register earlier, or just to yell at inanimate objects since yelling at Gamzee doesn't seem to accomplish much. You aren't exactly sure what he does when he's not pissed off. You've never seen him calm.

"I love when things are like this," Gamzee says suddenly. You look up at him.

"Like what?"

"All calm and shit. Not a motherfuckin' sound."

"Oh, yeah, I guess. I wish we'd do something though. I'm pretty bored," you sigh, leaning against the counter.

"Oh, right, you got what's his face at home. Dave, right? He your boyfriend?"

"What? No! He's my best friend! Gamzee, oh my god, I can't believe you!"

"No need to get all red, motherfucker. It was a question, not an insult."

Your heart is beating really fast, but you will it to calm down. Gamzee may be a pretty zoned out pothead, but he's oddly intuitive when it comes to certain things. You don't want him getting the wrong impression about you and Dave's relationship. If he does, you'll never hear the end of it. Your phone vibrates against your leg. It's a pester from Rose.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:35--

TT: It might interest you to know Mr. Strider is awake in your apartment. He's probably going to go through your things.

EB: that's cool. there's not much to find.

TT: No journals with the words 'John Strider' written in them? Surrounded by hearts, perhaps?

EB: oh, haha. yes, rose. stacks of journals.

TT: He informed me that he proposed to you with a Ring Pop, and you said yes. Then he said I wasn't invited to the wedding. I don't think that's fair.

EB: there was no ring pop!

EB: now i feel cheated! and if there was a wedding, you could totally come.

TT: Thank you.

TT: I will plan out the entire thing. Kanaya is rather good with decorations, as you know. The two of us could provide you with the most lavish homosexual wedding of your dreams.

EB: oh, wow.

EB: now you've got me curious! :B

TT: I trust you're enjoying the visit that Dave rudely imposed on you?

EB: of course! he's so fun!

EB: he danced with me in my car. did he ever tell you about slam dancing?

TT: No, but I'm sure if it's something he invented, I'm not going to be too surprised by the idiotic name.

EB: yeah it's pretty stupid. hilarious though! he's also really…cuddly.

TT: Oh?

EB: yeah, like, he's always touching me. i never pegged him as a touchy feely guy.

TT: I don't think he is, John.

EB: huh?

TT: At least not to everyone.

EB: are you saying he's only that way with me?

TT: Am I?

EB: bluh!

TT: All joking aside, John, I really must be going. Kanaya has made me dinner, and she gets horribly impatient the longer she has to wait. I hope work is smooth for you.

EB: thanks rose!

TT: One last thing. Isn't tomorrow night the night you're going to the dance club with Dave?

EB: oh, yeah. i'm really nervous about it though. all those lights and loud noises!

TT: Yes, it can be overwhelming. Do be careful, and stick close to Dave, alright? Seattle can be dangerous at night, just as New York City can be.

EB: i know. my dad always says he'd rather me not go there if i can help it. dave will protect me though!

TT: Of course he will. He may be an immature narcissist, but he truly cares for you.

EB: uh…

TT: Goodnight, John.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:54--

You scroll back up and review the messages. Her and Jade are both always saying things like that, and it confuses you. Rose talks to Dave every now and then, but lately it seems much more frequent. She's told you before he only talks to her when he's trying to decide something. It makes you wonder what he's thinking about. As for Jade, you're not sure when the last time they talked was. You yourself haven't talked to her since Dave informed you of his visit. You'll have to pester her later. But right now, you're going to pester Dave. 

\--

Alright, so that wasn't the best idea. Karkat held onto your phone for the rest of the night, and you just _know_ he's talking to your contacts. You really should have signed out of Pesterchum before he yanked it from your hands. At least you know your friends will know the messages aren't from you. Only Karkat speaks in all caps like what he has to say is so important. The shift goes by even more slowly without your phone to keep you company, and you and Gamzee resort to building a card castle. 

"What the fuck are you two numbskulls doing?" Karkat asks as he walks to the front of the register. 

"Card castle, motherfucker," Gamzee says. "Building a mansion fit for a king." 

"No, you're going to make a mess when it falls. Put the cards back in the box." 

"C'mon, Karkat, you're being meaner than normal tonight," you whine. 

"Oh, am I? It couldn't be because I have a brain dead juggalo wannabe and a love sick dickwad as employees, can it? No, it must all be me, because I'm just that much of an asshole. Yes, I love being mad, that has to be it. Thank you, Egbert. I'm simply _enlightened_." 

"I think it's about time for a smoke break, Karbro," Gamzee grins. Karkat punches him in the shoulder. 

"It's about time to close, you stupid insufferable nimrod. I don't have time to smoke. And Egbert, I'll give your phone back this time, but next time, I'm sending a mass message to every sexual offender in our area with your chumhandle on it, and they'll send you nude requests every day until you bless the earth with your rotting corpse." 

"Um, thanks?" you say, holding your hand out for your phone. Before you put it in your pocket, you notice a few new messages, and sigh to yourself. You'll answer them on the way home. 

Closing is easy, as it always is. You only made a few sales, so the drawer is fairly easy to count. Before you leave, Gamzee gives you a hug, like he always does. You don't know who's more cuddly, him or Dave. As soon as he lets you go, he wraps around Karkat, who reins fists upon him while yelling curses that would make Marilyn Manson uncomfortable, and you make your exit before they both involve you in the conversation. 

As you get in your car, you check your messages. 

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]at 23:00--

GG: joooooohhhhnnnnn!!!!!

GG: i miss you!

GG: i know youre working right now but message me later!

GG: dont let dave take you from me D:

\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 23:03--

That was only an hour ago. Maybe she'll still be awake when you get home. Speaking of Dave, he's been messaging you all night, it seems. 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 22:30--

TG: does karkitty still have your phone

TG: cause hes not answering it

TG: or does clown dude have it

TG: i get confused by all the typing you know cant follow that shit

TG: still not answering huh

TG: its almost midnight so you better let me know when youre on the way back

TG: okay its past midnight now egbert

You smile at the messages. It's just like him to be concerned, but act like he's not. Maybe you are getting better at reading him. Rose Lalonde would be proud. 

EB: on the way now man.

TG: there you are

EB: karkat had my phone all night sorry.

TG: s cool

TG: so like

TG: hurry and shit

EB: yeah, yeah. we all know you miss me so much!

TG: whatever man im just bored

EB: i'm coming! jeeeeeeeeeeez.

You place your phone on the seat next to you, and drive home, all while fighting butterflies in your stomach.

As you walk through the threshold of your apartment, you catch a glance of Dave. He's on his back, sprawled on the couch with the remote in one hand. He's channel surfing, and doesn't notice you come in. You idly consider pranking him by sneaking up on him, but then realize you're too tired. Dealing with Karkat does that to you. So instead, you pad over to the couch quietly, and flop on top of him, your face in the crook of his neck. You expect him to be surprised, but he just stretches an arm around your waist and continues channel surfing.

"Long day?" he asks.

"So fucking long," you sigh. "Karkat vs Gamzee all night. I'm thinking of selling tickets for everyone to see what I go through."

"Yeah, I was kinda surprised by them too. They both messaged me over your chumhandle, and added me to theirs. That Gamzee is something else, man."

"He's a good guy, he's just…"

"A druggie?"

"Something like that. He's on some pretty strong medications for anger issues, so it keeps him pretty mellow. Plus all the weed he smokes adds to that, I guess. He's really nice though. Karkat lets him work there because no one else will hire him, and they went to school together. They both have hearts of gold."

"That's just like you to see the good in everybody. I could introduce you to a serial killer, and you'd invite him over to watch _Ghostbusters_."

"Someone has to see the good in people. It's too easy to see the bad, y'know?" you mumble, rolling your head to see the TV screen as the picture continues to flash through different networks. Dave's hand is rubbing circles on your back, and it's lulling you into a sense of calm you're not used to. His heart is beating in your ear, and you can't help but notice how fast it is.

"Yeah, that's true," he says quietly. "You goin' to sleep on me?"

"Mmmhmm…"

"Sweet. Platonic bro cuddles all night it is, then."

Both arms wrapping around you is the last thing you remember.

The next time you wake, it's bright in the apartment. The TV is still on, playing some special on Comedy Central. Dave's snoring quietly under you, and it's only then you notice your position. Your legs are tangled in his, and you're sleeping chest to chest, your hands curled under his shoulders while his are wrapped around you, one arm on your hip, and the other at the base of your neck.

Blushing furiously, you try to wriggle free of his grasp, but he only grips you tighter, mumbling sleepily. Finally, you manage to get your feet on the floor, and slap his arms away as they continuously try to grab you.

"Dammit, Dave, let go!" you hiss when he successfully pulls you back against him.

"Blankets aren't s'posed to move, Egbert…"

"I'm not a blanket! And if you want breakfast, you'll let me up!"

Grumbling, he does so, and then he rolls over to face the back of the couch and passes out again. Sighing, you drape the blanket over him, and make your way to the refrigerator. You're thinking about making pancakes, though you're not sure if Dave likes those or not. You consider asking him, but you doubt you'd get a straightforward answer from him right now, so you just decide to make them and see.

The smell must wake him up, because he's soon at the stove beside you, rubbing his eyes behind his shades sleepily.

"Why're you always up so early?" he groans. "'M still tired…"

"You're always tired. Besides, don't we have a long trip to Seattle today?"

"Oh, yeah… You makin' pancakes?"

"You like those, right?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

He jumps up on the small counter space and watches you as you continue to fry the batter, flipping it every now and then. Then you pull a plate from the cabinet, and begin piling them for Dave, who seems to almost be drooling.

"Syrup's in the cabinet over there," you point, laughing slightly when he hops off the counter to find it. You're just about to turn and hand him the plate when you feel wiry limbs wrap around you from behind, pulling your back into his chest.

"Thanks for the pancakes, babe," he mumbles, kissing the back of your head. You freeze where you stand, sputtering like an idiot while he reaches for the plate and takes it from you, spinning around to journey back to the couch. He's eating the pancakes ravenously while you try to control your heartbeat and breathing. Did that seriously just happen? How tired must he be? Does he _know_ he did that? Is he messing with you?

Deciding not to mention it, you quickly make a few more pancakes, and join him on the couch. Dave has switched it to Animal Planet, watching some documentary on snakes, and you have to reach over him to snatch the syrup.

"I can't decide if snakes are hilarious, or terrifying," he says between bites. "I mean, they're fucking tubes with fangs, shimmying on the ground to kill shit."

"Terrifying," you say. "They're scary as hell."

"I think the only animal more ironic than a snake is a platypus. I'd kill for a pet platypus."

"Are you being serious right now?"

He looks over at you, and you can see your reflection in his shades.

"They have duck bills, have claws, and are poisonous. Fuck yeah, I'm serious! I'd hide that badass in Bro's apartment. Get back at him for all the Smuppet incidents."

"Wouldn't it kill him if they're poisonous?"

"Nah, not much can kill Dirk. He'd probably get some pills and then come kill me with a shitty sword. It's our blood feud, y'know. Strider shit."

"Sometimes I'm glad I'm an only child," you laugh. "But it would've been cool to have a brother."

You finish your breakfast while he scarfs his down at record speed. He leans back against the cushions while you lean over him to grab his plate, and make your way back to the sink. His head is leaned towards you, and you can tell he's watching you through his shades.

"I guess I'll shower and then we can get ready," you say. It's past noon, so you need to get moving soon. It's about an hour drive, and you don't know how long it takes to set up for such things as these. He nods.

"I took a shower last night, so I'm good. Just gotta get dressed," he says. "Better hurry along now, Egderp. Can't have you stinking up the car."

You stick your tongue out at him, and make your way to the bathroom, stopping to grab some clean clothes. The water is hot as it pours over you, and like always, your mind wanders under the steady stream of water.

You're having a hard time keeping up with Dave's sense of irony. Are all his tender displays of affection simply his way of testing the irony waters? How would you know anyway? You've never understood the Strider sense of ironic behavior. For the longest time, you doubted whether or not Dave actually even _knew_ what irony was.

It's not that you don't welcome the embraces and the 'platonic bro cuddles'. It's just…making you feel a little odd. Not necessarily in a bad way, just in a way you aren't used to. Your heart is still beating furiously just thinking of the deep southern accented voice calling you 'babe'.

Maybe it could be something you get used to.

… Maybe it's something you'd _like_ to get used to.

As you towel dry your hair and pull on a clean T-shirt, you exit the bathroom to see him propped against the counter, wearing a white shirt with a red plaid over shirt. His black jeans are tight, and there are holes in them, from strifes with his bro, you bet.

You both stare at each other for a minute, and then he walks over to you.

"Ready?" he asks.

"…Yeah," you say, and you are ready, just nervous. But you'll be with Dave, and there's no reason to feel too out of place.

He may be an immature narcissist, but he truly cares for you Rose had said. And when his hand grabs yours to pull you from the building, you can't help but agree.


	7. Boogie Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Said it's cool, you're touching my hand. Yeah it's cool, it's cool, where we riding to? So come on sugar, touching my hand. Yeah it's cool, it's cool, where we riding to? So come on, yeah come on. So where we riding to? Yeah come on. So come on. I said, where we riding to?"- MGMT "Boogie Down".

You're Dave Strider, and you're slouched in the passenger seat of John's bright green Prius. You had offered to drive, but he had adamantly refused, saying he didn't trust you to get him to the club in one piece. Of course you know how to drive, you're not stupid. You just like driving _fast_. And while it's a crime, it shouldn't be, as long as the one speeding actually knows how to drive. Either way, he didn't buy it, so now you've been demoted to passenger while John takes the wheel.

Talking to him in real life is just as easy as doing it online, you've discovered. The upside of hiding behind a computer screen is being able to articulate your thoughts better, and, of course, not showing as much emotion. You can't help laughing at his little jokes and tales from his childhood, which you would never do over the internet. The biggest upside of seeing him in person, you've decided, is learning all of his little habits. Each time he smiles widely, flashing all of his teeth at you, he immediately covers them with his hand, and you know he's still self-conscious about his slight overbite. You might tell him later that it's not nearly as bad as he thinks, since he grew into them, but for now, seeing him blush and cover them with his hand is just too cute. His laugh is infectious, and whenever his bright blue eyes look into your shades, you can't help but feel…content. That's a good way to describe it.

Since he didn't dry his hair before leaving, it's wilder than usual, sticking in every direction. Still, it suits him in a weird way. If he ever tried to style his hair, you have no doubt that it wouldn't look as good as letting it be. Not to mention, it's raining outside, so the humidity isn't doing either of your coifs any good.

The radio is on, but it's turned down low so you could hear more about him. You don't think you could ever get tired of hearing him talk. He's very animated when he speaks, and his hands move all through the air when they're not gripping the wheel. He looks over at you again, the same brilliant grin flashed at you. He's talking about his dad, and you can tell how much he misses him.

"So then I went downstairs, and he's seriously frosting _another_ cake, which he then proceeds to stack on top of the other one. They weren't even the same flavor!"

"Dude, you're the only guy in the world who wouldn't be happy to be showered in baked goods. I wish Bro would've cooked more. I lived off take-out for almost my whole life," you say.

"At least you had someone to spar with. My dad tried to start a strife once, but he ended up spraying me with shaving cream until I left the room."

At this, you can't contain your laughter, and he looks over at you again while you struggle to regain your poker face. When your gaze meets his, he blushes again, and hurriedly looks back towards the road.

"Everything okay over there, Egderp?" you ask. He nods too quickly, his wild hair swaying on his head.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. It's just…I like your laugh," he replies quietly, adamantly refusing to look at you. He must be feeling the same as you are. Or at least, you _hope_ he is. There's been a strange sort of feeling around the two of you since you first woke up, making everything just a little awkward. It's almost like a weight you can't describe, threatening to crash down on both of you. At least, that's how you feel.

Throwing caution to the wind, you reach your hand over the glove box, catching his with yours. His blush is back as he looks down at your joined hands, but you soon feel his nimble fingers entwine with yours. Neither of you mention it, because that would only ruin the magnetic energy coursing through both of you, and add to the pressure. So instead, you both look ahead at the road, and you risk brushing your thumb over his smooth skin, sighing happily when he does the same. You feel a vibration in your pocket, and while he uses his free hand to turn the radio up at a stoplight, you use yours to answer your phone.

It's a pester from Dirk, of all people.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:15--

TT: Having fun?

TG: since youre pestering me i assume you want to know how cal is

TT: You know what they say about assumptions, little brother.

TG: fuck you

TG: and fuck you more for putting that puppet asshole in my suitcase

TG: putting him in the woodchipper would be a fate too good for him

TG: im lighting him on fire

TT: Do it, and I'll deep fry all of your records you left here. It might interest you to know that I came across John's chumhandle on your account.

TG: you hacked my account

TT: No, I opened your laptop, and it was on the page you never signed out of.

TG: my laptop has a lock

TG: a password

TG: you know my password

TT: It wasn't hard to figure out.

TG: i swear to god

TG: i hate you so much

TG: why are you near my laptop

TT: I'm in your apartment.

TG: fuckin figures

TT: Have you made a move on Egbert kid yet? We all know that was the entire point of this little visit.

TG: no i havent

TG: making moves is not the point of this visit

TG: cant you impose on someone elses life for once besides mine

TG: what about your little boytoy jake he actually likes your meddling

TT: He agrees with me that you need to stop beating around the bush.

TT: You've been infatuated with this guy for how many years now? It's more than a little sad that someone who shares my badass last name and good looks can't man up enough to make a move. No one likes seeing you fawn over him quietly.

TG: fuck you im not fawning

TG: and seriously get the fuck out of my apartment

TT: Jake is cleaning out your fridge. We'll leave after that.

TG: jake cant clean

TT: I know. That's why it's funny. I'm pretty sure he just threw out apple juice that was completely good.

TG: ill kill him i swear

TT: His intentions are good. As are mine. Which is why I'm telling you to grow a pair.

TG: whatevert

TG: dammit *whatever

TG: im typing one handed

TT: Should I message John and let him know of your perverted intentions?

TG: that is what you should not do

TG: there is a list of things i would rather you do than that

TG: including ripping out my spinal cord

TT: Wow, you're dramatic.

TG: im ending this conversation

TG: fuck you and fuck jake

TG: and dont message john seriously that wouldnt even be ironically cool

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 13:20--

Sighing irritably, you place your phone in your lap, and look back down at your hand wrapped around John's. He's looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

"Bro is being a dick."

"Oh. Uh, isn't he kind of always?"

"Truer words were never spoken."

Your phone vibrates again, and you hiss as you unlock it to see who it is.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:21--

TT: David?

TT: This is jake. I put your juice back!

TG: sweet

TG: now you just need to get your ass out of my place and i might be cool with you again

TT: We are about to leave. Dirk is jonesing for a rather good bit of pranking though. Ive been instructed not to inform you of his hijinks.

TG: shit whats he doing

TT: Exercise the utmost of caution while opening your cabinets! I daresay he has them booby-trapped more than indiana joness lost ark! There were quite a bit of colorful plushes being shoved in them last i ventured to look.

TG: smuppets huh

TT: Afraid so chap.

TG: so i gotta know

TG: do you ever just lay awake at night

TG: and think to yourself

TG: man im sleeping with this asshole whos obsessed with puppets and orange soda

TG: my life sucks

TT: Hahaha! Dirk is *absolutely* bully! I think his quirks are what make him so interesting. Hes his own person for sure but his attitude is certainly more than alright by my standards!

TG: thats a nice way of putting it

TT: Egad! He sees me on his phone! I must bid you farewell david and i hope to ring you a bell with my own account next time!

TG: later dude

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:27--

"Dirk again?" John asks.

"Nah, his boyfriend. Sometimes it's hard talking to him though. He talks like a Bond villain."

"Haha, a Bond villain? I should add him then! I love Bond!"

"Ugh, you two would probably get along great. English loves cinematic trash as much as you do."

John squeezes your fingers indignantly. "You don't even know good movies, Dave. So your opinion is invalid."

The buildings around the car are starting to multiply, and soon, the Space Needle is visible. You can't help but look at it interestedly, since you've never actually been to Seattle before. You wonder if you'll have time to sight see before the gig, but set up takes a while, so you doubt it. Maybe next time you visit.

"Where is this place?" John asks. You pull out your phone and open your GPS, and give him directions until you're parked outside a large brick building. It's empty right now, save for one car, which you can only assume is the owner's car you booked the gig with. John parks the car, and you're forced to let go of his hand as you both make to exit the vehicle, and you immediately miss the warmth. He walks around to stand beside you, and you lead him inside.

You immediately see all your equipment on stage, already unpacked, but not set up. If this is anything like last time, you're going to have a hell of a time untangling the wires. Your hand finds John's again, and you tug him towards the stage, only to be stopped by a loud female voice.

"Hey, you! Are you the DJ I spoke with?"

You turn to observe a blonde woman, a little taller than John due to her heels, come marching toward you. Her bright pink shirt is hanging a little off her shoulder, and her eyes seem to be the same carnation color.

"Sure am," you say. Her hand stretches towards yours, and you immediately notice the little cats painted on her nails. She notices your staring as you shake hands.

"Do you like my meow-nacure?" she giggles. "My girlfriend picked them out. She said they suited me well."

"No arguing there, ma'am," you say, and she laughs again.

"Yes, you're definitely the same smooth talking southern gentleman I spoke with. I'm Roxy. And you're as handsome as I figured! If I wasn't taken, I might just put the moves on you."

"Yeah, you said that last time, but you were drunk, I think. So is everything ready for tonight?" you ask, tugging John along as you follow Roxy.

"Yes, Janey made sure to tell the movers to use special care while moving your stuff. As instructed, we didn't try to set up for you. I know how bitchy you DJ's can be if someone else touches your turntables."

"Sweet. C'mere, John, I wanna show you my equipment."

The wires are tangled pretty badly, but you're trying not to fret over that right now. John immediately moves towards the turntables, and reaches out to touch them, but stops himself while looking at you sheepishly.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"Nah, it's cool, bro. I don't mind if _you_ touch them. Just be careful."

His megawatt smile is blinding as he reaches out again, fingers delicately brushing over the surface. Laughing slightly, you roam around him to locate the wire, and plug it in the wall so it's on. You move back towards him and place your hand over his, spinning the record and making it skip. He makes a delighted noise and looks up at you with glee, silently asking you to continue. You spin a few more times, making an easy beat, and John is your excellent audience of one, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the right moments. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation by the time you stop.

"I can't wait for this!" he says. "You're gonna be so cool up here. I can't wait to see you play!"

You lean towards him and pull him in your arms before you can stop yourself. He hugs you back easily, giggling into your neck.

"I can't wait to play for you," you tell him, your mouth at his ear. He shivers, and pulls back to look at you, eyes wide. Wordlessly, he reaches up to push your shades away from your eyes, removing your poker face so your emotions are completely on display, and you let him, because you want to look at him without the barrier. The heavy weight around the two of you seems to be lifting away as you stare at each other, and his eyes dart to your lips before he stands on his toes, leaning in-

"So what time do you think you'll be all set up, Mr. Strider?" Roxy's voice floats over, breaking the atmosphere around you and John, and making him snap back like a rubber band. Your shades slide back down to rest on your nose. His face is redder than you've ever seen it, and he busies himself by moving down to start untangling wires as you look over to the blonde woman eyeing you.

"Call me Dave. And I dunno, couple hours?" you sigh, secretly hating her a little.

"Nice. This is the biggest club in the area. If you do well here, it'll open a lot of doors for you. I've heard your stuff online, naturally, so I really don't have any worries about you. Just make sure to make this a night to remember, yeah?" she smiles, pink eyes glinting.

"I always do," you grin, eyes darting over to John, who's making it a point _not_ to look at you.

If only you knew the truth of that statement. Tonight will be a night you'll never forget.


	8. Pursuit of Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold. I'll be fine once I get it, yeah. I'll be good. . I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold. I'll be fine once I get it, yeah. I'll be good."- Kid Cudi "Pursuit of Happiness".

You're John Egbert, and you've been having a blast with Dave as he gets everything situated. Roxy informed you that the bar doesn't open until at least five, so you've got plenty of time to make sure Dave has everything exactly as he wants it. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't like watching him work.

It's weird, in a good way. You're not used to seeing him so passionate about anything. He's normally trying to act as though he doesn't care about anything, but that's all part of his façade. You know he builds these walls around himself to protect himself, because you've known that since you were both eleven years old. Even then he found it easier to pretend nothing bothered him than to face whatever it may be head on. It's never been an issue for you like it has been for Rose though. She and her tentacle therapy are always analyzing him, trying to get him to move past his little mental blocks and open up more. She's only trying to help him, as she always does with you, but you've already decided you'd love Dave no matter if he was being himself, or his ironic coolkid Strider façade.

And you didn't just say love, nopenopenope.

You look up at him again, and see him pulling records toward his little work station. His turntables are at the middle, officially tangle-free and shined up to the nines. He has a box under the work space, all filled with different records. Many are his own mixes, he tells you, but others are popular dance club songs, because the crowd will want to dance to at least a few songs they know. He knows these things, he tells you, because playing gigs is just part of what he's always done. Reading the crows is easy, he said. Knowing what people want is second nature, when he's caught in the beat and moving with the rhythm.

You realize you can't wait to see him up here, lit up by the stage lights, doing what makes him happy. You'd tell him so, if you weren't already so embarrassed by your earlier actions. You'd almost kissed him, and he had almost let you. It had been a spur of the moment reaction, of course. His crimson eyes affect you in a way you've never experienced before, and you've come to look at his shades as your protection more than his. Those eyes know everything about you when they look into yours, and you can't help yourself. All you could think of at that moment was his lips on yours, whispering his deep voiced 'babe' and whatever else he might think to call you. It hadn't been a bad image at all. But the thought of actually doing that with him, of telling him your feelings- it was too much. You couldn't do that yet.

Someone like you, derpy, crazy haired and stupid teeth John Egbert; how could you even think you had a chance with him? Dave always knew who he was, even if he did make up another personality to protect himself. Dave knew what he wanted. And Dave would never want you.

Facts of life, yo.

Still, you can't help smiling at him whenever you know he's looking at you, and you can't help but casually brush against him whenever you pass him to go untangle something else. You crave his contact by this point, but you know you shouldn't. Even if he's fine with it, he'll be leaving soon enough. And…then what?

No, you're not thinking about that either, nopenopenope.

He's here with you now, and that's enough. So stop thinking like your weird feelings about him are anything more than bro related. You're just caught up in the idea of having him so close, that's all. And your hero worship of him is shifting to romantic tension. You just have to rein it back in. Yeah, you can do this. Totally platonic feelings here.

"You look like a little kitten looking at a saucer of cream," a giggle comes from beside you. Jerking with sudden alertness, you look over to see Roxy smiling deviously at you. "Is Mr. Southern up there your beau?"

"No. No, he's not," you say, hearing the disappointment in your own voice, so you know she hears it too. It's funny. When Gamzee asked you the same thing just the night before, you had yelped and adamantly refused, saying no like it wasn't even plausible. Now though. Now it just hurts. She sighs sadly.

"Unrequited?" she asks.

"I…I haven't asked. I mean, there's nothing _to_ ask. I mean, shit, I don't know what I mean anymore."

Her hand roams to the small of your back, and she actually has to lean down to put her head on your shoulder.

"I know how you feel, baby," she says. "They always tell you coming to terms with your sexuality is the hardest part of realizing you're not entirely straight, but in reality, the hardest part is finding who you're supposed to be with. Not everyone wears a sign that says 'open to explore' on their heads, you know. I had my fair share of heartbreak, falling for straight bitches."

That's not exactly your problem here, but you nod anyway. "How…did you know to try with your girlfriend now?"

"Ah. She's a super tight ass, actually. Told me no more times than I can tell you," she giggles. You stare at her.

"So, um… How did that…change?"

"Oh! Right, sorry, I was reminiscing. Well, basically, I went out with another girl, thinking Jane Crocker would never feel the same about me. We were roommates before we were lovers, b.t-dubs. So Ms. Whateverhernamewas walked me home, and kissed me outside, and the next thing I know, Jane's throwing the door open and tugging me in, glaring daggers at my date, and then slammed the door. She kissed me, and the rest is history."

"I wonder what changed for her," you say, watching Dave arrange the records he'll be using. He's glancing at you every now and then, obviously confused by the close proximity of you and Roxy.

"I guess she realized I wasn't gonna wait for her stupid ass forever," the blonde laughs. "I loved her, of course, even then. But I learned a long time ago not to waste time on anyone who didn't want me. Life's too short for that shit. You know?"

"Yeah. I know."

"With that said, I'd say Shades up there is crazy for you."

"Huh?" You look over to her to see her pink eyes lit up in mischief.

"He hasn't stopped staring at us since I came over here, and it's not me he's checking out. Plus, that was some serious PDA earlier with that little hug. I should've gotten a picture, but I guess I wasn't close enough for that anyway."

You consider telling her that she actually interrupted a potential kiss between you two, but decide against it. Instead, you put your arm around her, earning an eyebrow raise from Dave, who's still trying to pretend he's not watching.

"Thanks, Rox. No, for real. We need to exchange information or something, because you give great advice, and my other friend I go to for advice knows too much about me sometimes, so I can just have two therapists instead of one. I'd say I'm fucked up enough for that."

"Heh. Everyone is, kid." Her lips meet your cheek. "Ugh, you cute little young boys coming in here, testing me! If I was a little younger and single…"

"Younger?"

"Don't judge. I'm almost thirty."

"Oh. You look my age."

And she kisses you again, her mouth stretched in a wide grin. "Sweet-talker."

She leaves you then, going over to talk to a muscular man in black who you assume is part of the security. It's almost opening time, and she says Jane will come in soon to watch the show. Roxy and she both take turns bartending on really busy nights, and Dave is drawing quite the crowd.

You make your way back over to Dave, who seems to have finally finished getting everything together.

"You have lipstick on your face," he says without looking up, and you wipe it away with a cheesy grin.

"Sorry. Roxy was telling me about how she met Jane. Apparently it makes her pretty sentimental." He wraps an arm around you easily.

"She's something else for sure, man."

"You all finished over here?" you ask, fingering the record edges before meeting his shades. He shrugs.

"More or less. Is it almost five?"

"Yeah, Roxy just went to get everything set up with security. They have extra tonight. Guess you're already popular, bro."

"Told you man, people can't resist my Strider charm. Does me good, but also causes harm."

"Dave," you laugh, nudging him slightly before he gets into another rap battle with himself.

"Hey, so look. I was thinking it might be good for you to actually sit at the bar or something for most of the night. I mean, it's your first time at a club, right? It gets pretty…close, if you feel me," he informs you.

"I know. I might sit it out, but I'd like to see you up close too."

"I can just play for you later, John."

"It wouldn't be the same! And you came all this way for me! I can mingle with some sweaty assholes for a few minutes so you can 'look into my derpy face while mixing sick beats'."

He smirks a bit when you quote him. Roxy calls over and says it's opening time, so Dave needs to finish getting ready.

"That means no more distracting him with your fine ass, John!" she adds.

Grinning at her, you slide out from under his arm, but when you're passing him, he pulls you back against him.

"Dave?"

"I…fuck, John."

"Huh?"

"I'm really glad you're here."

You feel yourself flush as you hug him back, grinning like an idiot into his shoulder. "I'm really glad I'm here with you," you whisper. "I've…been thinking about that since you got here."

"Me too, baby."

There it is again, his deep voice calling you such a name, and so easily too. This time you can't blame it on sleep or lack of judgment. Dave knows exactly what he's saying. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your lips are kissing his neck before you can fully grasp the situation. Not in a heated way, but just a gentle press of the lips to his pulse, hard enough for him to know it's happening. He stiffens against you, his hands digging into your back as he inhales sharply.

"Egbert…"

"Hm?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"I need to talk to you about something too."

"Okay. Okay, but let's wait. I can't play all this shit with too much on my mind. You can listen to me being an idiot later. For now, just…be safe, you dork."

"Safe as can be. That will be me," you grin, finally untangling yourself from him.

\--

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:07--

GG: jooooooohhhhnnnnn!!!!

EB: hi, jade!

GG: i missed you! dave took you from me!!!!!!

EB: nah he's not cool enough to do that. i just fell asleep last night before i could message you back. i'm sorry.

GG: dont be silly

GG: im just glad youre having fun! :D

EB: you're so awesome!

GG: isnt tonight daves thing? he was saying something about a gig?

EB: yeah. i'm at it now.

GG: how is it?

EB: LOUD.

You're at the bar, as you figured you'd be. Dave's in his zone right now, onstage with the lights glinting off him and his shades. You figure he's probably operating off instinct, because there's no way he can tell where he's putting his hands with those shades on. He can't. It's so dark in here, you can barely see, and you're not even wearing sunglasses. He's really something else.

GG: is dave as good as hes always saying?

EB: ugh, jade. so amazing.

GG: :D

EB: he's in his own little world up there. each time he gets into a song he starts dancing in place to it, and it's so fucking dorky and cute i don't even know what to do.

GG: cute?

GG: john did you just call dave cute?

GG: did i miss something

GG: john!!!!!!

EB: sorry. you didn't miss anything. why?

GG: because last time i checked youd never call another guy cute!

EB: oh yeah. i'm drinking a little. let's blame that.

GG: dont get carried away!!!! D:

GG: but you know you can tell me anything john were practically siblings were so close!

GG: do you like dave?

EB: …

EB: a lot.

GG: oh my goooooood!!!!!!!!

EB: and it sucks so hard. i'm not cool enough for him i don't know what my brain is thinking.

EB: he's so perfect jade.

GG: this is such good news! you two would be so cute together!

EB: do you think he could feel the same?

GG: has he made any…moves?

EB: he hugs me a lot and held my hand earlier.

GG: :DDD

EB: and he keeps calling me names like baby.

GG: …

EB: jade?

GG: this

GG: is

EB: jade.

GG: so

GG: CUUUUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

EB: oh my god.

GG: seriously john! im so excited for you!

EB: i'm telling him later.

EB: fuck, i'm so scared. this could ruin everything.

GG: or make it better!

GG: dont be scared!

"There's my motherfuckin' bro-mein," a familiar voice says, and you look up from your phone to see the all too friendly Gamzee stalking toward you. Sputtering like an idiot, you watch him take the seat beside you, the ever present dopey grin on his face.

EB: fuck jade i have to go.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 21:19--

GG: what?

GG: john?

GG: please be careful :(

\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:20--

"Gamzee!" you say happily, a little more loudly than you meant to thanks to your third rum and coke Roxy had sent your way 'on the house'. You welcome his hug for once as his long limbs grab you in a vice grip. "What are you doing here?"

"Karbro got all pissed about having to work an extra night. You know Thursdays are his days to be all motherfuckin' lazy. So I was all, 'hey best friend, let's go crash this gig biz', and dragged him here. 'Cause, I mean, it's not like we had much else to do. Be gettin' my motherfuckin' chill on."

"Karkat is here? Where?"

"No, Gamzee, I didn't need help parking the car or anything. As a matter of fact, I'm glad you sauntered in here like a fucking brain dead sloth while I was out there fending for myself against all the sick fucks grinding on each other like they're lust filled face sucking filth. THANK you for that."

"Right here," Gamzee says easily, reaching out to tug Karkat forward.

"Hi, Karkat!" you grin, swaying slightly on your feet before you sit back down.

"Are you drunk, John? Because that would be entirely irresponsible of you when you have work tomorrow and are alone while Suzy Q is up there slapping records for a living."

"Karbro, you need to get your mellow on. John's got us here now and we got his back. You got nothing to fear, my man."

"Thanks, guys!" you grin. "And I'm not drunk, thank you very much. If I was drunk I wouldn't be so nervous."

"What's making you all motherfuckin' nervous, my inebriated brother?"

"Oh, nothing," you say, eyes glancing to the stage. Dave's mixing a popular club song now, and the crowd is going crazy as his hands move lightning fast across the turntables. He's focused on his work now, but you still wish you were brave enough to go towards the stage and see him up close. Sadly, the very thought makes you sick to your stomach. The floor is beyond packed, and just getting up there would be a challenge in itself.

"Oh, Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Egbert. Are you still fawning over that numbskull up there? If you don't have the bulge to admit your ridiculous crush, you can't exactly complain," Karkat grumbles, falling easily in the stool to the other side of you, making you in the middle. You turn to him.

"It's not that easy, you know! I'm going to! I just…wish I wasn't so fucking nervous."

Jane comes over, and you look beside you to see it was Gamzee who waved her towards you. She's nice enough, but you prefer Roxy by a landslide as a bartender. She doesn't ask as many questions.

"Yes?" she asks Gamzee, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Can I get three motherfuckin' shots of tequila?"

"Whoa, no, dude. I don't need to drink anymore," you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. He waves you off, handing cash to Jane, who takes it with a frown on her face.

"It'll be making you all calm, my high-strung brother. Clubs like these call for drinks, you know? Plus I need one real fuckin' bad after the drive here."

"The DRIVE here would've been just fine if you weren't a completely stupid fuck."

You grin at them, deciding a few more drinks couldn't hurt. If anything, it might make you more at ease. And you could _definitely_ use that right now.

\--

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 23:01--

EB: jjjjjjaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddeeeeeee

EB: imn so hgappy

GG: john?

GG: is everything alright?

EB: yeah!

EB: freindsa are here with meeee!

GG: …are you wasted?

EB: courese not!

GG: john!!!!!! D:

EB: just thouight id let you knlw im happy!

EB: love yioui!

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 23: 06--

GG: dave is NOT going to be happy with you

GG: im not happy with you!

GG: YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!!!!!!!!

GG: GET BACK HERE JOHN EGBERT!!!!!!!!!!

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 23:11--

GG: there you are!

EB: HoNk.

GG: what were you thinking!!!!!!

EB: HoNkHoNkHoNk!

GG: what does that even mean?!

EB: ;O)

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 23:15--

You're pretty chill, you think. When you're not standing up, everything feels absolutely perfect. Standing is something else entirely, mainly because the world won't stop moving. You decide gravity isn't your friend tonight. Gamzee seems to understand your woes.

"My brother! Preaching to the motherfuckin' choir 'bout that bitch Mother Gravity! Can't even tell you how many times she done went all up out of her way to fuck me up."

"Right?!" you cry, your mind far past realizing this conversation makes no sense. "She's against me!"

"You're both drunk as fuck, and it's ridiculous," Karkat huffs, though he's more than a little tipsy himself as he sways on his barstool. Gamzee shoves his shoulder, and he falls in the floor with a loud thump, barely audible over the newest beat Dave is mixing.

"Isn't he the greatest?!" you cry, pointing to Dave over all the heads of people. "I fucking…I fucking LOVE him!" You're giggling at the thought while Karkat stands up to punch the shit out of Gamzee's arm for pushing him.

"When is loverboy gonna be all up and able to come on down here?"

"When he's done being awesome. So never, maybe. He'll be up there forever," you sigh.

"Actually, it's almost time for him to be done," a female voice says, and you look over to see Roxy grinning at the three of you. She's cut you all off from ordering drinks, saying you've had far more than enough. You can't even remember how much you drank.

"It is?!"

"It's super late, sweetie," she giggles. "Though I like drunk John, I don't think Mr. Strider will."

"Naaaahhhh, h-he told me to have fun!" you laugh, slapping the counter enthusiastically. "He'll be s'happy I had fun, he won't even care!"

"Let's hope so. We always let the DJ off around three am so they can have drinks on the house before we close at five. So he's got a few minutes."

You try to wrap your mind around this knowledge, but it's so amazing for some reason, you can't even begin to grasp it. You look over at Gamzee and Karkat, who are both grinning stupidly at you, and you risk getting up to wrap them in a loose hug.

"I love you guys!" you giggle.

"This little motherfucker is so drunk. I can't even believe he could handle so much fucking alcohol in his system." Gamzee's voice floats over you as he hugs you back.

"This idea…was not our best, I admit," Karkat sighs, also hugging you loosely. "We're all gonna be so goddamn miserable at work later. It's not even funny."

Suddenly, it's quiet, and the crowd is cheering again. You notice the distinct lack of music, since you've been hearing it nonstop for hours. Gamzee and Karkat are the only things holding you up, because honestly, your legs feel like jelly at this point.

"Hey, my musically gifted motherfucker!"

"Sup, juggalo. Karkitty. What brings you guys my way? Came to see the show, eh?" You hear the perfect smooth voice, and try to remember how to get your legs to work.

"We're taking care of little Egbert over here, since you left him to fend for himself in this ridiculous club scene. I swear, you idiots and your ideas of fun. They make me want to vomit all the alcohol I drank into both of your smug, idiot faces," Karkat says.

"Huh? Where's John?"

And then, you're finally able to look up at him, smiling widely as you see his perfect face. He's frowning at you, eyebrows furrowed over his shades, and he crosses his arms.

"Daaaaaave!" you exclaim, rushing over to him and falling into his arms in the process. He catches you around the middle, and helps you stand on your feet.

"Jesus, John, are you wasted?"

"Me? No, not me. Nope, nope. I'm perfectly sober," you giggle into his neck, hugging him as close as you possibly can. "I missed you!"

"I missed you- Egbert, you reek of booze. Shit, man, why the _fuck_ did you drink so much?" He sounds more than a little angry. You hide your face, not wanting to see him mad at you.

"Wanted to have fun. Gamzee said it would help. Don't be mad at me, I'm sorry." You pull back to look at him. "You were so awesome up there, Dave! So perfect and cool and hot, I don't even know how you did it. I couldn't keep up with your hands, they were going too fast! You're so amazing! Dave, oh god, _Dave_!" You hug him again. "I love you!"

He freezes against you, hands gripping your arms. You can hear his breathing, and it's pretty ragged, like he was running or something. Then he pulls you closer than ever before, one hand moving up to tangle in your hair, and the other bunching in the fabric on your hip.

"Shit, John. _Shit_ ," he whispers. "What did you just say?"

"Huh? I said I love you! You didn't know that? Everyone knows that!" And then he's pulling your face towards his, and kisses your forehead while exhaling shakily, before he pulls you back towards the bar, calling Roxy over and asking her for some crackers or something to help sober you up.

"I want some pie," Gamzee announces. "Do you have pie here?"

"No," Jane says coolly.

"We need to be hunting up a place with some motherfuckin' pie!" he slaps the counter. "Do any of you righteous brothers want to be joining me in my quest?"

"Gamzee, you ignorant shit, where are we supposed to go? It's three in the morning, and the only sober one here is Strider," Karkat hisses.

"No, I've had a few," Dave says. "People always buy the DJ drinks. It'd be rude as shit not to accept."

"Great, so none of us are sober."

"Egbert's fucking _gone_ ," Dave says. "Why the fuck did you let him drink so much?"

"Don't be mad," you whine, hugging him again. He sighs, but he still looks pissed off. Gamzee merely smiles at both of you.

"There's actually an IHOP down the street," Roxy says helpfully. "They have pie, I think. Just be sure to make it back soon, cool-kid. You've gotta pack up all your gear."

"Let's go, Karbro! Be getting my motherfuckin' grub on."

"Ugh, fine, _fine_. You're buying me whatever I get. And you should buy Egbert's too, for fucking him up so bad."

"I second that," Dave says, helping you stand. "C'mon, babe, gotta get some food in you."

And you follow the three of them out of the club, not remembering the last time you felt so fucking _happy_. You hope with all your might you'll remember all of this later.

After all, you're really fucking _wasted_ , and all you can think of are pancakes.


	9. Blue Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All the lights on, and you are alive, but you can't point the way to your heart. So sublime, when the stars are aligned, but you don't know, you don't know the greatness you are. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you are destiny's scene. 'Cause Blue Eyes, I just wanna be the one. I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna get it on with you. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you're the secret I keep. 'Cause Blue Eyes, I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna sing a song with you."- Cary Brothers "Blue Eyes".

"Dawvff, truh thiffff," John says happily, shoving a forkful of pancakes dribbling syrup into your mouth. He's grinning like an idiot at you with his own mouth full, syrup literally all over his face. He better be glad you like him so damn much, because he's seriously verging on getting smacked.

You're Dave Strider, and you've long since realized you're the most sober member of your current party. John is cozily beside you in the booth at the IHOP Roxy had mentioned, shoving down bite after bite of pancakes. You had ordered simple eggs and bacon, explaining that you weren't in the mood to have pancakes twice in one day, but he hadn't taken the news well. He literally got emotional over their behalf, saying you couldn't get tired of something and just throw it aside like it was trash. So then, you opted to share with him, deciding sharing a secondhand kiss on his fork was worth a stomachache later. And finally, the point you're at now, is when he decided to feed you himself, which you  _were_  cool with, until he decided to sneak attack you with the fork. Now you're putting your hand over his, and directing him back to his own plate.

"Seriously, you two can't even  _eat_  without being all over each other? Color me disgusted," Karkat drawls, carefully eating a strawberry. "Wait, did I seriously just say 'color me'? Dear God, I hate myself." Gamzee cracks up from beside him, adding sugar packet after sugar packet to a cup of coffee. He had been upset to learn that IHOP didn't have pie, but had cheered up at the prospect of pie flavored pancakes. Thus, he ordered a monstrous stack of apple cinnamon whatever-you-wanna-call-it, and ate all of it at the speed only someone suffering from serious munchies could've done. Karkat ordered the strawberry crepes, and is eating them as slowly as he possibly can, occasionally hissing obscenities at all of you, and more recently himself, saying he hates past him, but future him is worse. You're not following any of it, because you're too busy watching John.

He's acting like he's having the time of his life, obviously at the peak of his drunkenness. You're hoping the food absorbs the alcohol, and that he doesn't end up vomiting everywhere, but you suppose he'll show some signs of that before it happens. You know for a fact he's never been drunk before, and he'll probably have a hell of a hangover later. But it's cool. You'll play nurse for him if you have to.

"Dave!" he leans against you, shoulder hitting yours and knee brushing against yours under the table. He seems unable to keep his hands to himself while intoxicated, and you're secretly enjoying it way more than you should be.

"Sup, bro?" you ask. He reaches up to brush his thumb against your lips, a goofy grin on his face before he brings it back to his mouth, tongue poking out to lap at his fingers. You sputter like an idiot when he does the same thing again, giggling happily to himself.

"You've got syrup all over your mouth," he explains. When his hand rises again, you grab his wrist, halting his movements. He stares up at you, eyes wide under his lashes, and you're very,  _very_  glad he can't see yours through your shades.

"You're covered in it too," you whisper, not sure why you can't get your voice any higher. He cocks his head to the side as if he doesn't understand the issue.

"Get it off," he says, voice also low with a hint of something you can't begin to grasp. Holding your breath, you reach out to brush your fingers over his face, making sure to trace his lips carefully. His eyes darken as he looks up at you, but he doesn't move. Then you lift your hand, licking one of your fingers the same as he did to his. He makes an odd noise in the back of his throat, before leaning forward shamelessly to lick your thumb, pulling it into his mouth, gaze never leaving yours. Your free hand grips the table as you bite your lip to stifle the fucking gasp he just caused.

"You two better not start going at it while in my company. I think I speak for Gamzee and I both when I say neither of us want to see that," Karkat says, snapping you back to reality. You look over at him, half thankful, and half furious at him for ruining whatever that just was. John's drunk, you tell yourself. He doesn't know what he's doing.

"I think it's motherfuckin' cute," Gamzee says, sipping at his coffee. "Does a heart good to watch two people in love. Gets a motherfucker all warm and fuzzy."

John whines when you pull your hand away. You reach for a napkin and clean his face off in a less intimate way, making him giggle again when you push his face away dramatically.

"Are you guys ready to go?" you ask, knowing you'll do something you regret if you keep sitting in such close proximity to John. Karkat stands immediately, tossing a few bills on the table for his food. Since your waitress is outside smoking, you all opt to do the same instead of waiting for her. John doesn't notice you picking his money up and putting your own down. You figure buying his food is the least you can do since he drove you all the way here and is letting you crash with him. Not to mention this latest gig is paying you an arm and a leg, so you have some cash to spare. You help him out of the booth, and keep a grip on him as you venture outside, knowing he's not sober enough to walk on his own. Gamzee does the same for Karkat.

"I don't like this at all," Karkat says for the fiftieth time as you venture outside. "This part of the city is seedy as fuck. We're going to be attacked by huge radioactive cockroaches or something."

"You could've said gangsters or drunk drivers, but no, you went with  _radioactive cockroaches_. Super realistic, dude," you say, dodging a punch he directs your way.

"Shut the fuck up, Strider. As if you're the person I want to get lectured on reality by. If only we could all live in fantasy worlds and spin records for a living. Oh, what's that? Your plan in life  _isn't_ to leech off the idiots in society until you die? I'm shocked. Really."

You open your mouth to respond, but John beats you to it, looking over at Karkat with a very serious expression.

"Karkat. You need to stop talking. You sound like Invader Zim when you ramble." You can't fight the laughter that spurts from your mouth as you reach up to remove your shades, hanging them off the collar of your shirt. It's too dark to keep them on.

"And fuck you too,  _Dib_."

"Karbro, you need to be getting your chill on."

"I'm perfectly calm!"

"Doesn't he sound like Zim, Dave?" John asks, wrapping both arms around you as you walk. You'd return the gesture, but his awkward height proves too difficult, so you settle for slinking an arm around his shoulders.

"Exactly like him, my man," you reply, elated when he sends you another megawatt grin. "You feeling better?" He nods enthusiastically.

"I feel great! Tonight was fun. You're so fun, Dave," he pauses, an odd shadow crossing his face. "I wish you didn't have to leave."

"John."

"I know you have to. I'm not drunk enough to think you can just stay forever. But I can wish it, right?" He looks at you again with another smile, but you can see right through it.

"Let's not talk about that right now, babe. It's a few days away, right?" you drawl, tugging him closer. "We Striders don't think about the future too much. You gotta live in the moment."

"I really like it when you call me names like that," he says suddenly before you finish your sentence. "Pet names? I think that's what they're called. I like those. Not from everyone. I mean, if someone else called me baby or something, it'd be weird. My dad called me that once. I told him no. Never again. I'm a boy, it's too weird. But you, I like when you do it. It feels right, y'know? You feel right, Dave." He stops walking, making you halt with him. "I- I really mean that."

Unable to stop yourself, you pull him close again, burying your face in his hair and inhaling deeply, surrounding yourself with his scent. John Egbert,  _John fucking Egbert_. You don't think you could possibly be more in love with him.

"What you said- at the club," you breathe, "it's… I mean, shit, bro. It's mutual. It's so fucking mutual." His face buries in your chest, fingers clenching your plaid over shirt, bunching the fabric. You're not even sure if he remembers what he said. You know you shouldn't be getting into this until he's sober, but fuck it all, you can't. You're no good at this feelings shit, and you aren't in the right place to have a feelings jam, but you can't help but feel like it has to be  _now_. Karkat and Gamzee are so far ahead of you two, they're not even visible anymore, and there's no one here to witness this except for John. So finally, after what feels like years you didn't even know you were waiting; you tilt his face up with your fingers, and press your lips to his.

Fucking fireworks and sparks- you never thought that hype was real. You'd kissed plenty of people before,  _much_  more heated than this. You'd done things you weren't proud of, but none of it mattered in hindsight. It was something to do, you had figured. If you knew it could be like this, you'd have waited. As soon as your lips touch his, something happens. You're not sure if it's  _sparks_  per say, but it's pretty fucking close.

John is clearly  _not_  experienced, and the fact that he's still not sober isn't helping, but the clumsy way he presses back against you and wraps his arms around your neck, standing on the tips of his toes to apply more force, still sticky syrup hands against your neck- it's goddamn perfect. You sigh against his lips happily, not even trying to deepen it. He's still drunk, and you're not going to risk taking advantage. This is enough. This is more than enough. This is  _everything_.

You pull away from him, kissing his face, brushing your hands over his skin. His eyes open slowly, looking a darker blue under his lashes. John's looking at you like he doesn't know whether or not you're actually there. His fingers grip in your hair tighter, but not really enough to hurt. His awkwardness is slowly making this the best kiss you've ever had.

"I'm not good at this," he mumbles, staring at your lips with a dazed look as he sways on his feet.

"It's better that you're not," you laugh. "Makes it better. You still taste like syrup." He laughs like you just told the funniest joke in the world, and leans against you heavily.

"I'm sleepy."

"You're still drunk. You won't even remember any of this later."

"Then you'll just have to remind me."

You kiss his forehead, smiling like an idiot, grateful he can't see how in tatters your façade is right now. He makes a humming noise, supporting all his bodyweight on you.

"You boys lost?" a deep voice asks. You look up to observe a large man in a denim shirt, sporting a 'ZZ Top' beard, three more equally large men behind him. Normally you wouldn't be so wary, but it's dawned on you that these guys don't exactly look friendly. You shake your head.

"No. We're just having a moment. Is that okay with you?"

"Seems to me you fags are getting ready to fuck in the street," Denim shirt drawls. "You think that shit's okay?"

"I don't really think it's any of your business, dude."

They start laughing, one of the smaller guys mentioning that you're getting smart. Instinctively, you shove John behind you, who clutches your shirt tighter.

"Dave…"

"It's alright," you tell him. "Worse comes to worse, you run, Egbert. Just get the fuck out of here."

"No way!"

"Don't be an idiot, bro. You can barely stand!"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Jesus  _fuck_  you are so goddamn stubborn."

"And you're an idiot!"

Denim shirt's moved closer, followed quickly by his lackeys. They're all pretty big, and you're trying to calculate how you can defend both of you while helping John escape. If it was just you, it wouldn't be a big deal. You've fought Dirk's crazy ass on a rooftop with swords in the Texas heat more time than you can count- but you don't have a sword right now. And you have more to worry about than yourself.

You think of your phone, back at the club on top of the turntables backstage. You hadn't thought you'd need it. You think of Gamzee and Karkat far ahead of you, probably waiting for you back at the club, wanting to give you and John privacy. You think of the lecture you'll receive from Lalonde and Harley if anything were to happen to either of you because you weren't watching your backs. You think of Dirk, shaking his head at your lack of discipline and Jake fawning over any potential injuries. And last, you think of John, safely beside you, but still in so much danger, whimpering behind you, but still being stubbornly brave because that's just the kind of idiot he is.

And you know you'll do whatever it fucking takes to protect him.

One of the guys has dreads. He tells you to give them your wallets, and they'll let you go. You know better than that shit. You refuse, dodging when he lunges at you both, aiming a kick in his stomach. When he flies back, it seems to release the flood, and they all jump at once, seeming to go for you since you hurt one of their guys. You're chill with that. Whatever keeps the attention off of John.

It's a blur of fists and kicks, and you're pretty sure by the sudden gash in your arm that one of them has a knife. With all the adrenaline and alcohol in your veins, it's hard to pay attention. You're only acting on impulse, relying on your body to just know what's right. An arm grabs you from behind, wrapping in your shirt and holding you in place. There's a gasping noise when the hand releases you, and you turn your head to see John's got him pinned to the ground, struggling to hold him there.

Denim shirt seems to realize John's the weak point, because he lunges for him, grabbing him by the throat and holding him up while he claws desperately, kicking at his assailant, and you forget everything as you rush towards them, blinded by concern, when you're tackled to the ground because you left yourself open.

John screams above you, and you shout at the men holding you down, and then-

BANG.

A shot rings out in the street, bouncing off the alley walls and making everything stand still. Shit, they have a gun. Shit, they shot John.  _He's dead, John's dead, oh God, oh God, oh God-_

"Let them the fuck go, you soon to be filled with bullets motherfuckers."

((Special thanks to tumblr user burnieplease for this wonderful art!))

And you've never had a bigger urge to French kiss a clown.

The weight lifts off you and you scramble to your feet, holding your arm where the blood is gushing through. John is on the ground, staring up at you, his lip busted and bleeding profusely. He takes your hand when you stretch it out, looking close to tears and silently begging you to run with him, which you do. Gamzee is standing at the far end of the street, slowly making his way closer with the gun held high, Karkat behind him with eyes as wide as plates. You realize he must have shot it in the air.

"Shit, you're both bleeding, oh fuck," Karkat hisses, grabbing you both and pulling you behind Gamzee. "We thought you were just making out or something, but then we heard screaming. Are you okay?"

You vaguely hear him as you inspect John's injuries, which seem pretty simple despite the blood all over his face. You tear off a piece of your shirt and sop some of it up, careful not to push against his lips too hard.

"You motherfuckers stay where you are, or I'll blow your goddamn brains out," Gamzee says, slowly backing away and motioning for you to follow.

"Gamzee, we have to go! You can't be seen with a gun, you stupid shit! You're on probation-" Karkat hisses under his breath, silenced by a cold glare from Makara.

"You know how to use that thing, kid?" Denim shirt asks. Gamzee's finger is still on the trigger, a grim look on his face.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh  _fuck_ , Gamzee Makara, do  _not_  put me in this position!" Karkat snarls, tugging his shirt. "Put it down and come  _on_. So help me I will pap the shit out of you!"

Gamzee begins backing away slowly again, and you all follow, careful to keep your eyes on the offenders before breaking into a full run towards the club, Gamzee shoving the gun back in his baggy pants pocket.

"How the hell did you get a gun?" you ask incredulously, looking over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

"Had it for years, motherfucker. What kinda brother would I be if I wasn't all up and packing heat to save your asses? Shit's crazy as hell though. Never thought I'd need it."

"Yes, and I see you just shoved it in your pants. Are you eager to blow your own dick off, Gamzee? Because if you want to neuter yourself, there are better ways than running with a fucking  _loaded gun_  in your pants pocket!"

"Slow your roll, Karbro. There was only one bullet in the chamber. It ain't loaded no more."

"WHAT?! You just shot into the air- the  _only_  bullet you had- Jesus fucking Christ, you stupid garbage eating son of a bitch. You just saved our asses with one bullet. I fucking hate you right now."

You laugh as you run, hand still tight around Egbert's who's cracking a grin of his own, though he still looks terrified. You run inside to grab your phone and instruct Roxy to just have the movers ship your turntables back to your apartment. Dirk could sign for them later since he's so eager to sneak in and out of your place. Everyone else packs in John's Prius, Gamzee in the driver's seat. Karkat informs you that he's perfectly sober now, and they can take Gamzee's car in the morning to come get his car.

"Like hell I'm stepping out of this fucking vehicle into the streets," he hisses from the passenger seat. You're eager to crawl back with John, who immediately wraps around you, shaking like a leaf, but laughing too, and the absurdity of it all has you laughing with him until you're both cackling hysterically, you not even caring about your 'Strider façade' at this point. Karkat throws you a grin as Gamzee pulls out of the parking lot, informing all of you that his probation is for possession of marijuana, and you all better be "motherfuckin' glad y'all weren't caught with a hand cannon."

And you settle in the backseat, John practically in your lap, breathing against your neck and kissing your skin, telling you drunkenly how much you mean to him, which you return the best you can until he finally passes out in your lap, most likely doomed to forget most of the night ever happened. You hold him tightly, taking your phone out of your pocket to take a picture of this- just this- him curled against you with a serene expression, your shades back on your face, thankfully not a scratch on them despite the strife, and your faces pressed comfortably together, him breathing softly. You actually crack a smile, the flash going off for a second, making Karkat jump in the passenger seat and shoot you a glare, mumbling about shell shock and trauma. You look at the picture fondly, shamelessly making it your screen saver before sending it over Pesterchum to Jade and Rose, who had both sent you countless pesters about drunken John, and then tuck your phone back in your pocket, leaning against John and closing your eyes as Karkat and Gamzee start singing  _Tiny Dancer_  up front as they take you back to Egbert's tiny apartment, which has never seemed so inviting.

You decide, ups and downs included, that this was arguably the best fucking night of your life.


	10. If the Moon Fell Down Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I just can't get you off my mind, and why would I even try? Even when I close my eyes, I dream about you all the time. 'Cause I just always wanna have you right here by my side. The future's near, but never certain, so please stay here for just a night. I must've done something right to deserve you in my life. I must've done something right along the way. And even if the moon fell down tonight, there'd be nothing to worry about at all, because you make the whole world shine. As long as you're here, everything would be alright. I must've done something right to deserve you in my life. I must've done something right along the way."- Dear Juliet "If the Moon Fell Down Tonight".

You try to be John Egbert, but quickly discover he's too busy being unconscious. So just like that, you're Dave Strider again, and you're currently hauling your best bro up to his apartment, which is easier said than done, since he's acting like a dead weight.

Gamzee had driven to his and Karkat's apartment, and carried the sleeping store manager in the very same way you're doing now for Egbert, pausing only to tell you how to get back to the main road, which would lead to John's building. You followed his directions, laughing slightly to yourself about just how focused a half-baked juggalo could be. Luckily, the drive home was short, because you're pretty fucking tired, and John's pretty fucking gone.

Once inside, you carry him to his bed, dropping him in the sheets and undressing him the same as you did the first night. You set his glasses on his bedside table, as well as his phone, which you plug in for him, before tucking him in the blankets like some kind of parental figure. It'd be something you might find humorous if you weren't currently exhausted. For whatever reason, you couldn't sleep in the car. Maybe it's because some part of you just had to make sure Egbert got home safe and sound. And now that he is, the exhaustion is crashing over you in waves.

You're tempted to crawl in the bed beside John, but think better of it. When he wakes up, he's more than likely not going to remember the adventure you had the night before, or at least not for a bit. You don't want him to start freaking out before his day's even started. He's already going to be hungover as hell, and that's going to be enough. He mumbles sleepily from the corner, and you glance over to see him nuzzling against the pillow. Could he be any more goddamn cute? No, you answer yourself. No, he couldn't.

You pull your jeans off, which land with a loud thump on the ground due to the added weight of your wallet, and take both your shirts off. You're tired, dammit, and you're going to be comfortable. Daylight is streaming through the window by his bed through the blinds, and you know you've been awake for a long time, but as soon as your back hits the couch, you find yourself unable to sleep. This happens to you sometimes, but it's always a bitch to deal with. You simply have to wait until the exhaustion takes over again, but that could take a while. Thus, you pull out your phone to pass the time, and go fuckin' figure, you have a pester.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:47--

TT: I'm going to take a moment to be absolutely serious with you, Dave, and I hope you appreciate my innate ability to hereby abandon all sarcastic remarks and intellectually stimulating responses, that I simply adore throwing at you, in favor of telling you this.

TT: You and John are absolutely adorable in that picture.

TT: As a matter of fact, I've never seen you so happy in a picture. I was under the impression smiling was physically impossible for you, but low and behold, you're smiling at the camera like you've done it in every picture you've ever taken. I hope you realize just how many volumes that simple photograph told me. If I was ever having doubts about this whole thing, which I was not, I would be certain to tell you now, in absolute confidence, that you are both perfect for each other.

TG: okay first of all why the fuck are you awake right now

TT: Remember that it's three hours ahead of you here, Dave, and I woke up early to drive Kanaya to work. Her car is having some issues and all I'm doing today is examining patient's charts until this afternoon.

TG: second of all i know were pretty fucking cute together

TG: lemme ask you something

TG: in all your crazy therapeutic mumbo jumbo

TG: do you think its wrong to kiss someone while theyre drunk and wont remember the next day

TT: Not always. Was it a simple kiss?

TG: very

TT: Did he kiss you back?

TG: yeah

TT: Did you use tongue?

TG: rose jesus fuck answer my goddamn question and stop fangirling

TT: No, Dave. I think you're fine. John isn't the type to get mad over things like that. Plus, something tells me he'll want a kiss or two when he's sober as well.

TG: id

TG: be pretty cool with that

TT: I'm sure. Now I'll leave you to get some sleep, as I'm sure you're exhausted, and you have a long day ahead of you.

TG: night

TT: Good luck.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 07:12--

Your messages from Jade are still the old ones from last night that she sent you while you were playing. Most of them are all capitalized, and it reminds you briefly of talking with Karkat, ranging from sweet little, dave, john is wasted!!!! to HOW COULD YOU LET HIM DRINK SO MUCH HES JUST A BABY!!!!!!! You can't help but laugh at that one. Harley seems to think of all of you that way. You told her you were drinking once and she started sending you pictures of diseased livers and kidneys. Poor John will be in for a lecture later.

You restlessly hold your phone in your hand as if there's something else you're supposed to do before you can sleep. Your thumb slides the screen to unlock it, and you're greeted with the picture of you and John you sent to Rose and Jade. His head on your shoulder, lips still a little swollen from the injury, hair everywhere and serene expression. And you- Rose was right- you do look happy. Even if your smile is more of a smirk than anything else, you can see it in your face, because, of course, you know yourself better than anyone knows you. It's just the way he's so comfortable with you, and you with him. And to think, that all could've ended if not for Gamzee.

No. No, you're not supposed to think of that. You had thanked him for his help as sincerely as you could, but he told you not to worry about it. Apparently it was miracles that saved you, because he just knew to turn back even before John screamed. You shouldn't thank him for a miracle, he said, because he wasn't the one responsible.

Still, you had thanked him nonetheless, because if not for him, you don't know what might've happened. And with that thought in mind, you realize exactly why you're holding your phone in your hand still. You have another crazy person to thank for your safety tonight, even if he's only going to be a dick about it.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 07:20--

TG: so look

TG: i had a crazy night like you wouldnt believe and some shit went down

TG: and after its all said and done i just have one thing to say to you and its seriously probably the only unironic and completely serious thing ill ever say to you

TG: thanks

TG: and im not gonna elaborate so dont bother asking why

TG: just thanks

TT: I wasn't going to ask why.

TT: And you're welcome, at the risk of also sounding unironic.

TG: do you ever fucking sleep

TT: I was about to ask you the same thing. You should know I'm awake right now because Jake likes to make me breakfast even though he's not very good at it.

TG: didnt he light your oven on fire last time

TT: Microwave. And yes. He put foil in it.

TG: and youre letting him try again

TG: you must be a saint

TT: No. It just makes him happy.

TG: do you actually eat it

TT: Depends on exactly how burnt it is. Now, little bro, I know you've been up all night like some teenage rebellious wild child. Don't you think it's about time to sleep?

TG: im an adult dirk

TG: i decide when to sleep

TT: Are we going to have a repeat of the Smuppet down the pants incident? Because I never got pictures last time.

TG: and this is the part where i start hating you again

TG: go eat your burnt breakfast

TG: and we never had this conversation

TT: Right.

TT: Go to sleep.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 07: 32--

Finally, you place your phone on the table, connecting it to your charger. One thing about Dirk you always admired was that he never really asked questions, because sometimes it's more natural not to speak. 

"Dave?" a soft voice calls from the corner. You sit up to observe John facing you, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Once his gaze settles on you, he frowns like he doesn't understand something. "Why are you over there?" 

"I was gonna sleep, dude. Isn't that what you're trying to do?" you say. 

His frown deepens, and he flops back in the sheets, patting them and making an agitated sound like he doesn't believe he has to do this. "Come over hereeeee." 

You stay where you are for a second, wondering if he's still drunk, until his hand starts hitting the bed with more force, and inspires you to move a little faster. You shuffle over to the bed, crawling beside him, but keeping distance, testing him. You want to make sure he initiates everything this time, because you aren't sure how sober he is yet. His blue eyes observe you for a moment, before he closes them, and moves toward you, nuzzling in your chest, and you've never been more grateful to sleep shirtless as his hands rub circles in your back and his breath splays across your chest. 

"John," you say quietly. 

"Mmm?" 

"I love you." You feel like this might be your last chance to tell him. Once the sun is all the way in the sky, and he's completely sober again, who knows what might happen? Maybe this night was all you had. And if he doesn't remember any of it, you hope he'll at least remember this part of it. Because once everything is said and done, you don't know if you'll be able to tell him again. 

You feel his lips curve upwards at the corners as he kisses your neck. "Love you too." 

And you finally drift into a peaceful sleep, uneasy thoughts left behind for now. 

\-- 

You're John Egbert, and the sun needs to fucking explode. 

At first, you thought it was just a headache. But then, you uncovered your head from the blankets, and were literally _punched_ in the face by the light streaming in your apartment. You had covered your head again as quickly as you could, and buried closer to whatever warmth it was wrapped around you. And then you realized the warmth was moving. 

Uncovering your head and wincing again, you find yourself face to face with Dave Strider, who is sleeping beside you completely unfazed and natural. You blush when you realize he's only wearing boxers, and can't stop your eyes from raking down his torso. So those freckles _do_ trail down past his face… They're not very noticeable unless he stays in the sun too much. Right now they're barely there, tempting you to trace them with your fingers and feel the soft skin underneath. And you do, feeling a bit depraved as your pointer finger brushes a line from his collarbone to his ribcage and then back up, eyes never leaving his face. He stays asleep, only twitching a bit when your fingers move past his nipple, a soft sigh breathing through his lips. 

What the fuck _happened_ last night? You remember seeing Dave play; he was amazing. You remember talking to Jade briefly before being interrupted by Gamzee and Karkat, who bought you drinks and taught you how many things could be mixed with tequila. And after that, everything is a blur that only makes your head hurt worse the more you try and remember. Things must have ended on good terms though, if Dave's sleeping half-naked in your bed. You're pretty sure nothing happened between the two of you, because you like to think some certain…parts of you would be sore if it had, or that you would at least remember something like that. 

You roll over to reach for your phone, which you discover Dave plugged in for you. He mumbles as you move around, and shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. He's fucking _spooning_ you. Who knew Striders were this cuddly? You idly wonder if his brother is the same way, before you discover your phone is _blown up_ from pesters, starting around the time you blacked out last night. 

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 23:20--

GG: are you really drunk???? :(

GG: dave isnt answering his phone either so i hope hes watching you

GG: and what was with those honks?

GG: JOHN!!!!!!!

GG: at least tell me youre okay! im worried!

GG: you are in for such a lecture tomorrow.

GG: DX

\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:05--

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 23:47--

TT: John, is there a particular reason Jade is blowing up my account about how much she wants to punch you and Dave in the face?

TT: She's informed me that you're drinking. It's very, very late here, and I think she forgets sometimes that I have to be awake early.

TT: I hope you're being careful at the very least. Because tomorrow you're going to be in for a Harley rant, which I have found to dread more than a Strider one.

TT: And I might join her, because this is unlike you, and it's because of you that she woke me up.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 23:53--

\--terminallyCarpricious [TC] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 14:04--

TC: ArE yOu Up AnD aBoUt YeT mY bRoThEr?

TC: KaRbRo WaNtS tO kNoW iF yOu WiLl OpEn ThE sToRe FoR hIm At 6.

TC: He'S sIcK aS a MoThErFuCkEr. PoOr GuY hAs No ToLeRaNcE. bE lEtTiNg Me KnOw!

TC: HoNk :O)

\--terminallyCarpricious [TC] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 14:07--

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:53--

CG: EGBERT

CG: NEVER ARE WE HAVING A REPEAT OF LAST NIGHT.

CG: I WOKE UP AND FELT LIKE I VOMITED ALL OF MY INTERNAL ORGANS INTO THE FLOOR AND ROLLED AROUND IN THEM. LITERALLY JUST LAYED THERE AND WANTED TO DIE UNTIL GAMZEE CAME IN AND FORCED ME TO DRINK GATORADE AND TAKE PILLS. SO YOU NEED TO DO THAT IF YOU FEEL THE SAME WAY I DID BECAUSE IT ACTUALLY HELPS.

CG: THEN AGAIN LEAVE IT TO A DRUGGED UP CLOWN TO KNOW HOW TO CURE A HANGOVER.

CG: WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING LAST NIGHT. I WANT TO PUNCH PAST ME IN THE FACE. STUPID LITTLE SMUG FUCKER. WE WERE CLEARLY NOT USING OUR THINKPANS RIGHT.

CG: WE STILL HAVE TO WORK THOUGH. IT'S NON-NEGOTIABLE. SO IF YOU OPEN THE STORE FOR ME, I WILL MEET YOU THERE AS SOON AS I CAN. WE'RE STILL IN SEATTLE RIGHT NOW TO PICK UP MY CAR AND I'M AFRAID WE MIGHT NOT BE BACK IN TIME.

CG: I MIGHT LET YOU HAVE ANOTHER DAY OFF IN EXCHANGE FOR THIS FAVOR. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'RE DOING ANYTHING IMPORTANT ANYWAY, YOU NOOKWHIFFING SNARKSACK.

CG: MESSAGE ME BACK OR I'LL CALL YOU. AND YOU DO NOT WANT TO HEAR SCREAMING WHILE HUNG-OVER. TRUST ME.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:07--

You groan at all the missed messages, which ended around four. It's already almost five, and you're supposed to be at the store in a little under an hour. Seriously, _what the fuck_ happened last night? Why did they have to go back to Seattle to get Karkat's car? …Hehehe…CARKat. Wait, no, stop that, you need to drink something to help cure this hangover. Shooting Karkat a quick response saying you will open for him, you shuffle out of the bed, careful to avoid rousing Dave by quickly shoving your pillow in his grasp. He wraps around it instead, burying his face under the sheets. Your heart swells for a second, before a throbbing in your head reminds you of the task at hand. Man, you're really unorganized today. 

Moving to the sink, you reach for a glass in the cabinet above and let the water fill it, before you start guzzling it down like you never have before. Jesus, you're thirsty. You can't recall the last time tap water tasted so good. And you don't even like water. Maybe you'll stop and get a Gatorade on the way to work, since Karkat said it helps. Oh, and Aspirin. Yeah, you'll definitely have to stop and get that. Ugh, you can't just sit here all day and think of what you have to do later. First things first. You need a shower. Why is the bathroom across the room? You consider crawling to it, but rethink this idea because with your luck, Dave would wake up and be witness to this. Walking is just _hard_ right now. So is standing, for that matter. 

Yeah, you decide once you're actually in the bathroom, you're sitting in the shower. Is there a rule that you have to stand in the shower? No, you don't think so. And even if there was, you'd totally break it right now because sitting down makes your head not spin as much. The hot water makes everything better, at least for a little bit. Now that you're able to think a little more clearly, you immediately revert back to trying to remember the night before. 

Okay, think John, _think_. 

You were drinking, obviously. Okay, yeah, you remember Karkat trying to drink you under the table against Gamzee's better judgment, and you remember he did beat you, because your throat was burning way too much to keep drinking tequila. You recall not liking that particular drink, no matter what girly, fruity thing they mixed it with, so Roxy had gotten you a beer instead, which didn't taste much better, but at least it didn't burn. No wonder Karkat was hungover worse than you. He drank way more than you did. 

You remember Gamzee sitting in your lap to keep you on the barstool, because you wanted to dance, but couldn't stand up straight. Ugh, not your best moment, you admit. You wish that could've been something you didn't remember. 

Laughing with them…messaging Jade. Oh, man, you drunk messaged Jade. You remember being proud of yourself for being able to use your Pesterchum app even though it was hard to hit the right keys. Then Gamzee had taken it from you. Well, that explains the 'honks' she was talking about. Karkat was cackling louder than you had ever him before…Gamzee was lecturing both of you on the mirthful messiahs who would grant you miracles if you believed in them, Dave came off the stage and you tackled him because you wanted to tell him you loved him- 

Shit. 

No, more than shit. Holy fucking _shit_. 

Okay, okay, that's fine, calm down. Try to remember what happened after that. So you were with all of them and Gamzee wanted pie, so you left. Right, you remember walking to IHOP. Dave held your hand the whole way. You can't remember anything that happened at IHOP though. You remember pancakes, but that's about it. 

Alright, so you left the restaurant…you were hanging off Dave because he was letting you…and then you were talking about him leaving soon. Your eyes widen as you recall the small kiss he placed on your lips, a heat rising in your body that's _not_ related at all to the hot water pouring over you as you raise your fingers to your lips. You can't remember much dialogue, but you remember how his lips felt against yours. You'd had to stand on your toes to kiss him back. 

Your body stiffens as your finger traces along a small gash in the corner of your bottom lip. It hurts a bit, and the realization of how you obtained it makes a shiver run through you. Those guys, those gay bashing thugs. You remember Dave protecting you, and you doing your best to help him. And then Gamzee, fuck, Gamzee. You're baking him a cake. A big fucking 'thank you for saving our asses' cake. You don't even care that you don't like cake. You'll bake it for him. 

As you're sitting in the shower thinking about all of the overwhelming events of the night before, you find yourself cascaded with an icy feeling as the water turns cold. You've been in the shower too long, and you didn't even wash off yet, so you're forced to apply shampoo at record speed and wash yourself off in cold water. You can't help but hope that Dave is still asleep, because you have so much to talk to him about, but no time to do it in. You have to go to work. 

You open the bathroom door, poking your head out. Dave is still asleep, snoring lightly in his blanket fortress. You can make out the blonde tresses folded over the pillows. Sneaking over to the bed, you unplug your phone and put it in your pocket after checking the time. You're running a bit late, but it's not like it matters as long as you're there before Karkat is. It seems rude to just leave before Dave wakes up. Somehow, after last night, even though most of it's still a blur, you feel wrong trying to sneak out. So you lean over him in the bed and shake him lightly until his crimson eyes focus on you wearily, peeking out from under the blankets. 

"Sorry," you whisper quietly, mindful that he might be hungover as well. "I've gotta go to work until midnight again. Just wanted to say bye." 

He blinks up at you, one of his hands moving up to brush against your face and trail along the cut in your lip. 

"Still hurt?" he asks. 

"Nah. Just stings a bit. How's your arm?" You uncover his arm and look at the deep cut there. "You didn't bandage it? Dave! God, you're a dweeb." You run to the bathroom again to get the gauze you keep in the medicine cabinet, since you injure yourself a lot. He keeps a steady gaze on you while you wrap his cut up, secretly thankful it didn't bleed on your sheets. Blood is a bitch to clean. 

"So you remember how we got hurt, right?" he asks warily. You nod, still keeping your eyes trained on your work. "And, uh, do you remember last night?" 

"Yeah," you say quietly. "My head hurts." 

"Hungover?" 

"Like a bitch." 

"John-" 

"I know, Dave," you say, finally looking into his eyes. His brows are furrowed as he observes you, but his mouth snaps shut at your admission. "I know we need to talk. But I have to go to work now and- I wanna make sure everything gets said that needs to be said. So we don't need to get into this now." 

His face is unreadable, but his eyes seem to widen for a second, which you would have missed if you weren't so close to him. He looks away from you, sinking back in the covers. "Oh, that's cool. You better hurry then. I don't want you to be late because of me." 

You sigh at his stubbornness, whispering "fuck it" quietly to yourself before leaning down and kissing him briefly- just a gentle touch of lips- and pulling away quickly so you can leave while he's frozen in place, staring up at you, completely wordless for once. You smile at him as you walk to the door, and laugh a little as his face breaks into a grin too- not a smirk- a real _grin_. 

"And what am I s'posed to do while you're off peddling comic books?" he asks, his usual snarkiness back in his tone. "And it's hard to register a kiss from you without syrup all over you, doll." 

"Shut up, you prick. And I guess you can sleep and not go through my things, _sweetie_." He grins again as you exit the apartment, secretly squealing in your hands like a fangirl at the simple exchange and grateful he can't hear it through the door. 

\--

As it turns out, Karkat was right, the Gatorade helped a ton, but you think it was the four Aspirin you swallowed that got rid of the banging in your head. Your boss and co-worker turned up about an hour after you opened the store, Karkat giving you a sour look before walking into his office, and Gamzee coming to stand beside you at the counter. 

"Who punched his cat in the face?" you ask, craning your head to make sure Karkat can't see you. 

"He's still all up and irritable," Gamzee says. "Dude's got road rage like you wouldn't believe, and some motherfucker cut him off on the Interstate. I was behind him and I could hear the screams from his car window." 

"Damn. How come you're not hungover?" 

"I'm always wasted." 

"Oh. Right." 

"So what's up with you and that Strider motherfucker? You seemed pretty into him last night," Gamzee grins up at you, leaning on the counter.  
"Ugh, don't mention how I acted last night. I don't remember everything, but I know I was being ridiculous," you sigh. 

"Nah, my brother, you were drunk. And that was my bad anyway, I shouldn't have gotten you all those motherfuckin' drinks. 'Sides, Strider didn't seem to mind all that much." 

"Yeah, we're- I don't know what we're doing, really. I mean, he's my best friend, and I'm probably in love with him, but he- he lives across the country from me, Gamzee. Even if we have a long-distance thing, he'd find someone else in Texas and I'd be stuck here and…shit. I don't know. There's too much to think about." 

"You're just overthinking it. Want a Faygo?" 

"…Actually, yeah. Get me one. We'll slam them together if you think it'll make me feel better about all this." 

"That's what I motherfuckin' wanted to hear, my brother." 

You spend the rest of your shift talking to Gamzee and messaging apologies to Rose and Jade. Rose accepts immediately and begins asking about your growing relationship (?) with Dave, but Jade lectures you on the effects of alcohol on the body, and how you'd better not worry her like that again. And then she gushes about a picture of you and Dave that he apparently sent to her the night before, and you make a mental note to ask him about it as soon as you get back to the apartment. You're forced to end the conversation as Karkat comes out of the office, moving to stand beside you with a grim look on his face. 

"So bad news. We're pretty much in over our fucking heads by this point," he says. "This place is hemorrhaging money like a fucking cancer. We almost can't afford to stay open." 

"Shit. Is there anything we can do?" you ask. He glances over to you, a scowl on his face. 

"Yes, John, you can break open your little piggybank and smash it open. Maybe your whole two dollars will make a difference." You frown at him, but don't answer. Finally, he runs a hand through his hair and slams a fist on the counter. "Shit, fuck, _fuck_ ," he says, "this is so goddamn unfair. I work twice as hard as all these fucking internet comic sites, and they get all the money. I should've known how stupid it would be to open a place like this, but what the hell, right? We tried. And now we ran it into the ground like completely fucking stupid bulge sucking shits, and-" 

"Karbro," Gamzee says, putting a hand on his shoulder, "it's gonna be alright." 

"Yeah," you say. "We just need to get the word out or something! I mean, the sites online have blogs and stuff to advertise. We could run a blog or something on Gamebro. They do spotlights on places sometimes." 

"Gamebro fucking sucks," Karkat hisses, "but you might be onto something there, Egbert. Who knows." 

"Dave has a friend who helps run his sites," you say suddenly. "Maybe he could help us out? I can ask, I mean, if you want me to." 

"You do that, John. I'm going to go home and get shitfaced again because at this point, it's the only thing I can think of to do," Karkat sighs. "I know it's early, but screw it. We're closing." He walks to the office again, and you look at Gamzee with a frown. 

"Is he gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah, he'll be chill in a bit. I'll cheer him up somehow. 'S kinda my job, I think, so no worries. You go on home to your boy, Egbro. And take this with you," he holds out the orange flavored Faygo he gave you earlier. "Just listen for the motherfuckin' miracles, my man. 'Cause we can all use one right now." 

\-- 

Dave is in the kitchen when you walk in, looking over at you in alarm. 

"You're home early," he says, and you can see he's looking through your instant food collection. You drop some bags on the ground that you picked up from the small grocery store on the corner, and toss him a bottle of apple juice, which he looks pretty emotional about for a second before he looks at your face. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, just some bad stuff at work," you say, beginning to put the things you bought in the cabinets and fridge. Dave comes beside you to help. "Karkat says we might end up closing down for good." 

"Oh, man. How's he taking it?" 

"Pretty much how you'd think. He said he's probably going to get drunk again tonight, so not very well. It just sucks so hard. I know comic stores are kind of outdated, but Karkat worked so hard on that place, and it's the only way Gamzee could be employed, and- shit. Put that ramen up, by the way. I'm cooking." 

Dave's eyes stay trained on you the entire time you're moving about the small space, and he jumps on the counter to watch you like last time. He listens to your rant about how unfair it all is, offering small "I know, mans" and "I feel yas". 

"Don't you have that crazy tech-y guy who runs one of your sites?" you ask him, tossing mushrooms in the marinara sauce you're making. He frowns. 

"Sollux?" 

"Yeah. How much do you pay him to do that? I mean, the cooler a site, the more visitors it has. And I could pay him to make one for Karkat. If he was able to sell stuff to people online too, it might help his business some." 

"Dude, you're not paying Sollux for that." 

"Well, why not?" 

"Because you can't afford it, Egbert. It's not cheap having a website to manage." 

You stop stirring the sauce and look up at him. "Well I have to do _something_. I might not want to work there forever, but they're my friends, and I'm gonna help them however I can." 

"I know, bro. You're all noble like that, and always have been. It's one reason I've associated with you for so long. We'll figure something out." 

"You're gonna help me?" 

"Of course. I've stuck with you through worse." 

You're blushing, you can feel it, and hurriedly turn back to retrieve a pot from the cabinet under Dave for the noodles. He watches you from behind his shades as you add oil to the water, and place it over a burner, waiting for it to boil. 

"You need an apron to complete this image," he smirks. You scowl up at him. 

"I have one. My dad made me take it in case I ever had the urge to start baking," you pause. "Oh, shit! I meant to get cake stuff for Gamzee! I'm making him a thank you cake for last night." 

"You Egberts and your cakes. What's this alleged treat gonna say? 'Thanks for shooting a gun in the air and scaring off some assholes?'" 

"No, 'thanks for saving our asses'." 

"Oh, sweet. Are you gonna bake me a cake too?" 

"I'm making you dinner, dork-wad." You snap the pasta strands in half and toss them in the now boiling water. 

"You still need that apron so I can get a picture." 

"Oh, yeah. What picture did you send to Rose and Jade? They were telling me about it, but I don't remember any picture." You're getting plates and piling the noodles and sauce on them before handing it to Dave, who takes it from you with one hand, and pulls out his phone with the other. He swipes his thumb across the screen and shows you his wallpaper, which is a picture of him grinning drunkenly at the camera, and you passed out against his shoulder. Your face heats up. 

"More of your ironic selfies?" 

"More like memorabilia from last night's adventure. Plus you're fucking adorable when you sleep. It had to be documented." He leads you to the couch, and clicks the TV on while you eat. "I could eat your food foreverrrrr," he drawls blissfully. "Daddy Egbert deserves a thank you cake too for teaching you how to cook." 

"No way. If I baked my dad a cake, he'd think his torturous methods were instilled in me, and- just no." 

Dave chuckles, and eats silently while the comedian on TV makes everyone laugh. You're only half paying attention to it, eating slowly while thinking of Karkat and Gamzee, and then mind shifting back to Dave, who's babbling about how bad this guy on TV sucks. You blink when you find the plate being lifted from your hands, and look over to see your reflection in Dave's shades. 

"Is there any reason you're not eating your own awesome food, Egderp?" he asks quietly, placing the plate on the table beside his. 

"J-Just thinking," you say, "about stuff." 

"Mmm," he grunts understandingly. "Wanna talk about it?" 

"We already did. Sort of. We- I mean, I…was thinking today, about…about us, and…" 

"And?" 

"We live so far apart, Dave…" 

"And right now we're together. So what's your point?" 

You're suddenly aware of his face in front of yours, and realize that he's shifted closer while you were looking away. With your hands shaking, from anticipation of anxiety, you aren't sure; you lift his sunglasses off his face, uncovering his piercing red gaze. Your breath hitches at the look in his eyes. He looks like he wants to eat you. 

"I-I'm scared," you whisper. "If you found someone else after…after all this…I'd lose my best friend…" 

He sighs before he removes your glasses too, putting them beside his on the table, and then puts his hands on either side of your face, your breaths mingling together. 

"Bros before hoes, John. Even if you're the hoe in this case." 

"You're a total loser, Dave," you smile. His lips twitch upwards at the corners, and then he's leaning in, covering your mouth with his. 

It's different from the times before. He's more urgent, pressing against your lips with more force, and you know he's been holding back this whole time. Was he as scared as stepping over the line as you were? Maybe you being drunk off your ass was a good thing last night, if it got rid of your inhibitions and allowed him to know of your feelings for him while your subconscious took the passenger seat. His tongue brushes against your lips, and you groan quietly before opening your mouth, letting him in. 

It's wet and weird, but enticing enough to wrap your tongue around his. You're sloppy in your movements, unsure of how to kiss like this. You were always a little embarrassed that you had never had any heated moments with anyone before, but maybe it was better that Dave was your first. You're more than certain that he'll appreciate more than any stranger ever would. Your tongue sloppily escapes his mouth, and ends up on his chin, lapping the trail of drool forming there. He hisses into your mouth, pushing you over and crawling over you as his mouth moves fervently against yours, eliciting a noise from your throat you never knew you were capable of. His grin shows it wasn't unnoticed by him, and he moves to suck at your neck instead, seeming determined to make more of those noises escape you. 

"Dave… _shit_ ," you groan, biting your hurt lip and drawing blood as he nips behind your ear, trailing down to bite your collarbones and suck the skin. You know he's going to mark you like a fucking cheetah, but are quickly starting to not care. You'll just wear a turtleneck if you have to- fuck, he's good with his tongue… 

"You gonna say more of my name, Egbert?" he whispers into your ear, breath hot and warm as it dances over your skin. "'Cause I love how hot you sound when you moan it like that." 

Fuck, dirty talk too? He's pulling out all the stops, isn't he? And that goddamn accent is so prominent when he talks like that. You're quickly turning into putty, and aren't even opposed to that fact, so long as he _doesn't stop_. 

"Dave," you comply, arching against him clumsily, your hips hitting up and knocking against his. He growls lowly, a moan escaping his throat too from the friction you just created, before his hands are prying your legs apart and he's settling between them, and he rocks against you with more force than before, creating sparks in the back of your brain that explode like a firework. "D-Dave…oh, _God_ …" 

"Fuck, John," he breaths, picking up his pace and seeking your mouth with his again, drinking in the steady mantra of his name like it's motherfucking _apple juice_ , and all you can think of is how perfect this is, and that you would be willing to only have this every now and then with long-distance visits than to never have it at all. 

He opens his eyes, hazy crimson darkened with lust, and halts his movements, leaving you panting and trying to desperately grind up against him again. 

"Sit up, babe," he drawls, pulling back from you. Scrambling to do so, you quickly straddle him against the cushions, eager for more contact and unwilling to let him go for any longer than you have to. He chuckles lowly again, hands moving down to unbutton your jeans, and then his own. Your hands move with his, thumbs hooking in his belt loops to pull his pants lower, and him doing the same with yours, both your gazes locked like you've never known how to not do this. When his long fingers slip into your boxers, he halts, looking up at you with a serious expression. "You sure…this is okay with you?" 

You nod, biting against your lip again, the iron taste drenching your tongue when your wound starts bleeding again. He leans up to lap at the blood, sucking your tongue into his mouth as your erection is displayed to the cool air, boxers quickly pulled down to your thighs. You gasp quietly, whimpering into his mouth when his cold fingers wrap around you and stroke lightly, almost in an experimental manner. 

"Dave, Dave, _please_ …" 

"Jesus, _fuck_ , John, could you be more of a slut-" he strokes you faster, your breath hitching as your heart hammers so loud in your head that you can barely hear anything other than the blood pounding in your ears, until you feel something velvety against your hard-on, the added heat and friction causing you to go insane with want as you look down and see Dave moving his hand against his own erection in the same hand, stroking you both together. "Make those noises, Egbert…" 

Aiming to please, you do as told, opening your mouth and letting out a foreign mewling sound, the noise almost so unlike you that you can't help but wonder where the hell it came from, but Dave seems pleased with it, whispering little "holy fucks" every now and then, and prompting your hand to move down and cup his, helping him move faster. 

"D-Dave…I… _aahhhh_ …" 

"Just let go, baby. _shit_ , your voice…" 

Your body arches almost as if on command by him, the tremors shaking you as your release splatters against both of your hands, and a broken whimper escaping your mouth. He follows almost immediately after you, silent in his own orgasm aside from a shuddery gasp that he muffles against your neck. Both your hands stop moving, and your forehead, now slick with sweat, flops against his, a goofy, satiated grin on your face. He smiles, calling you an idiot before claiming your mouth with his again, and kissing you until both of you are breathing somewhat normally again. 

"So you gonna be my lady, or am I gonna have to sleep on the couch tonight?" he asks. 

"I'm not a lady. And no, you're sleeping in my bed with me so we can cuddle. We all know you're such a fan of that." 

"Fuck you, dude," he smirks, pushing you off to go get a rag from the bathroom to clean up. 

"Maybe later. I'm pretty tired." 

He carries you to the bed and wraps around you, helping you discard both of your pants and boxers on the floor beside the bed. You giggle to yourself because he _is_ cuddling, and it's so cute because you never thought he'd be the type. He couldn't blame being unconscious this time. 

You're still concerned about Karkat and Gamzee, but, as Dave had said, you'll figure it out. And even though he still lives in Texas, and you still live in Washington, you know you'll figure that out too. Your worries are still there, but you like to think they'll disappear soon enough, as long as you have Dave in your corner. 

"You know you're mine, right?" he says in your ear, causing another shiver to run through you and a "derpy" grin to form on your face. Yeah, you know you're his, you tell him, as long as he's yours too. 

You drift off knowing that somehow, everything is going to be okay. 


	11. Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you. Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you. I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine, Now I'm shining too. Because, oh, because I've fallen quite hard over you. If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know. If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone. I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much. All of the while, I never knew. I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much. All of the while, I never knew. All of the while, all of the while, it was you."- Landon Pigg "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop".

You're Dave Strider, and you're pretty sure John's father is crying beside you. Okay, yeah, scratch that, you snuck a look, and he's definitely crying beside you. Shit. What exactly are you supposed to do in this situation?

You suppose seeing his only child graduate college is something worth getting emotional about. You're pretty fucking proud of John yourself, seeing as how he's had to deal with everything from random meet ups with you, your crazy work schedules, and his classes. Hell, he even managed to worm his way up to the top of his class, like the true nerd you always knew he was. Yeah, he's definitely the only person in your life you would cry over, but that's not happening right now. He hasn't even walked across the stage to get his diploma yet, for fuck's sake, but Daddy Egbert is still sniffling. At least he's trying to hide it.

You're more than ready for this entire thing to be over, and you know John is too. He's been recruited to give a speech to the graduating class, and you've heard him whining about it every day for the past month. You're pretty sure you'd be fretting over it too in his situation, but John gives himself too little credit. He's good with essays and wording things just right when he has time to plan it out. He only gets tongue tied when he's nervous, so you're a little anxious for him, wondering slightly to yourself whether or not he might have stage fright. Either way, you'll be proud of him, because he's fucking earned all of this, and so much more- he's going to be a doctor, for fuck's sake. Ever the biology nerd, John Egbert truly was, and always will be, the smartest dude you know. Dirk is a close second, because you're pretty sure he's actually a genius who builds robots for fun, but he's been knocked down a few pegs because of his ungodly fascination with puppets, so you prefer to just call him insane.

The auditorium is packed. It had been hell finding a seat, and you were more than a little glad to have John's dad to help you navigate through the crowd. You figure John's mother must have been small and dainty, because his father is far from it. You're about as tall as he is though, so at least there's that. You can't help it if you're scrawny, because the blame for that will forever be placed on Dirk for not feeding you properly while you were a growing boy, but at least John has been giving you proper nutrition for the past couple of years, and then some. The sound of a voice clearing gains your attention.

"We apologize for the wait, and thank you for your patience!" a loud male voice calls over the intercom. A short man has walked across the stage to the microphone, and you recognize him immediately as the little guy you always spotted on the brochures for John's university. He always dressed kind of ratty for the dean of a school, and had even been pictured with the mayor of the city once, dimly smiling while wearing the mayor's sash across his shoulders. Ever since you saw that particular picture of him, you've been calling him 'The Mayor', even though he's really nothing of the sort. John told you once he looked more like a wayward vagabond than anything else, but fuck that shit. He's the mayor.

"We were having some problems with the speaker, but hey, what can you do, right? So we're all here to celebrate the graduation of our students! Let's focus on that!" he says enthusiastically, and everyone around you applauds. Yeah, this little dude seems pretty fucking cool, almost like he forgets he's a public speaker or something. He's talking to the crowd as if this is a casual situation, but no one seems to mind.

"I was here four years ago to address the newest class as they made the first step to the rest of their lives," the Mayor says, "and I remember thinking of the potential every single one of them possessed. I've watched them go from freshman, wide-eyed, and scared of the future, to the adults we see today, eager to take the skills they attained and apply it to their field of choice." He looks proudly at the rows of students. "I've made sure to get to know as many of them on a personal level as I could, because when these men and women make something of themselves, I want them to be able to call them my students, my legacy, and most importantly, my friends." Everyone claps again, including you this time, because this guy is awesome as hell.

"But enough about me and my dreams of leeching off my students' success! I'll hand the mic over to someone much better at speaking than I am, because I have it on high authority that I tend to ramble about unimportant things and waste time. I'm proud to introduce the valedictorian of our graduating class, and our next speaker, Mr. Johnathan Egbert." You aren't sure which of you are clapping louder, you or Daddy Egbert, but you're both on your feet applauding enthusiastically as John walks to the microphone, and is quickly enveloped in a hug from the mayor. John's dad whips a camera out with lighting speed, and you're laughing in spite of yourself.

John looks at the crowd, obviously trying to find his father, or you, but seems unable. You wish you could've sat closer, but it was pretty hard finding a seat as is. He gives one of his infectious smiles, the one where he flashes all of his teeth and all the lights in the room seem dim compared to him, and the crowd falls silent, waiting for him to speak.

"Uh, I'm not great at speeches either, but I'll try my best!" John greets, nervously raising a hand as if to run it through his hair, but then seems to remember he's wearing a hat, and snaps it back down. "Everyone seems to think because I'm good at studying and make good grades, that I might be able to give y'all advice on the real world we're about to go into." You smile to yourself, because he used the word "y'all". He's definitely been around you too long.

"But the truth is, I'm not any more prepared for it than any of you are," John continues. "I don't think any of us ever have plans for what we do, to be honest. I'm a pretty good example of that, actually. None of the plans I ever made went anywhere. Four years ago, I was twenty-one years old, and decided to finally enter school and make my father happy, because he was worried I wouldn't get anywhere without a college education. I only waited so long because I didn't think I was smart enough to become what I truly wanted to be, which is a doctor." He pauses, eyes scanning the crowd again until they finally settle on you and his dad, and you like to think he can see you well enough to know you're smiling.

"I'm twenty-five now, and even with all my planning, careful deliberation, and willingness to give up a social life in turn of reading the same material I've read countless times, I can pretty much tell you I still have no idea what I'm doing. I mean, yeah, I'm going to medical school, and I'm going to be a doctor, because obviously that's the whole point of this diploma, but I mean in the long run, the actual big picture, the one that really matters, I don't know where I'll end up. And I know from the looks you're all giving me that you don't really know either."

There's collective laughter from the way he's talking. John tends to talk fast when he's nervous, and his words are quickly gaining speed until he seems to realize what he's doing and takes a deep breath, eyes still on you.

"But I think that's the point of trying," he continues. "We all just get up every day, and go through the motions of our normal lives, and wait for things to fall in place. We all continue to be the person we're used to being. But if there's anything I've learned here, it's that you can't be scared to get out of that box. Even after all my years alive, I can learn new things about myself every day, and new things about my surroundings. As long as we're still learning, and still able to realize there are things we aren't meant to know, aren't meant to learn, I think we'll all be fine. Sometimes it's okay not to know. Sometimes, it's okay to wait, because that's all you can do. But other times, you have to make it happen for yourself, because no one else can do it for you. And trust me, you'll know the difference between the two." He smiles just for you, and okay, you can feel some moisture in your eyes, but it's obviously not crying. His dad is a different story though.

"So while I'm scared of the unknown, I embrace it, because we're only human, and there will always be something we can't quite figure out, even if that something happens to be ourselves. Don't worry about all of the unknown things though, because while they can be scary and intimidating, they can also be beautiful. The stars are a great example of that, but for all those of us who had to listen to Equius Zahhak rant about them, I'm sure we don't need to talk more about them." There's more laughter from the students, and John smiles widely at his little jab.

"It's fine to be scared, and it's fine to not know. It's okay not to feel like an adult all the time, because deep down, we're all just the little kids who dreamed of the future, and we need to keep doing that. The world can still be a beautiful place, if you let it. Don't be afraid to fall flat on your face, because there will always be a way to stand as tall as we're all standing now. I know that no matter how much I screw up in medical school, which I will, that my boyfriend will still be there for me, my father will still love me, and my mother will still be proud, though she is no longer with us."

Okay, John's dad is blubbering by this point. You reach over to awkwardly pat his shoulder, feeling entirely out of place.

"So let's all be proud of ourselves, because we've earned it, and because the road only gets harder from this point on. This may be the last time we all see each other, but we'll always be able to remember this moment, this final moment when we were all together, about to make the first steps to the rest of our lives, and hopefully, remember it fondly. Good luck to everyone here, and if we never meet again, I'm glad to have met every one of you I did meet. I don't believe in goodbyes, so I'm not going to give one. Instead, I'll say, see you around, because that seems less emotional, right? So see you around, guys. Let's part today with the knowledge that we will, in some way, all meet again."

There's a roar of applause, and okay, you're admitting there are tears in your eyes, but no one will ever know. Daddy Egbert is practically sobbing now, but he's smiling, and you can't help but think of what a stand-up guy he is, getting all emotionally involved in his son's life. You remember the first time you had met him, nervous as hell about the idea of John introducing you as his boyfriend, but it had all been for nothing. You were enveloped in a bone-crushing hug by the man before you could so much as shake his hand, and he had treated you like another son since then.

The ceremony is long and tedious- John's graduating class is rather large- and it takes a while to even get to the 'E' section, the announcement of 'Egbert' having you and his father on your feet again. John's dad is still recording the entire thing, no longer blubbering, but still looking emotional, and as soon as it's over, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and helps navigate towards John, jostling through the throng of people.

"I wanted to thank you, Dave, for helping to take care of John all this time," Mr. Egbert says, squeezing your shoulder. "I was worried about him living far from me, but he's managed so well, and I know that's to do with you as much as it is his stubbornness to quit."

"Oh, no way. John's been devoted to school since I met him in person the first time," you say, waving your arms in the air dismissively. "If anything, John's taken care of me."

"I know that too, of course. You both take care of each other. I wish you could have met Patricia. She would have absolutely loved you."

The mention of John's mother has you feeling emotional again, and damn it all; you will make it through the day without crying, goddammit. "T-Thank you, sir."

"None of that 'sir' stuff. Call me dad. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

"I know, I know, Dad. It's just…I forget sometimes. I've never called anyone that before. I never knew my dad," you say, and it's true. He split before you were born, and your mother never mentioned him before she died. Dirk was as close as you ever had to a father figure, but you made sure to always treat him like a brother, knowing full well that he would appreciate it more. You're not bitter about the loss of your parents, and you know John isn't sad about his mother anymore either. It's just the way things are sometimes, and you deal with the hands you're dealt.

"Dad! Dave!" John calls, running over and tackling you both like he didn't just see you an hour or two before. He's smiling widely before he sees the camera in his father's hands. "Oh, Dad, you didn't-"

"Of course I did, son. You're my pride and joy. It had to be documented."

"Ugh, I can't believe this. Now I can expect to have that tape playing and about thirty cakes for Thanksgiving, huh?" John grins up at you, and you wrap an arm around him.

"I went easy for your birthday. I'd say I deserve to go all out the next holiday we share. Plus, you two are moving soon enough. We'll have to make every celebration that much more memorable."

You and John are moving to California so you can work on the screenplay for your first movie, _Sweet Bro & Hella Jeff the Movovie_, which is set to start filming as soon as you start tweaking your comics into a script. You already have the actors lined up, both Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller's numbers in your phone. They text you from time to time, which is something John is always super excited about. He's begged you to get Nic Cage's number, but you'd rather die, fully convinced John would leave you if he was ever introduced to that smug bastard. Not that you'd ever admit that, of course. While you're busy with production, John will be starting medical school, so both your schedules are packed for the next few years of your lives, but at least you'll be spending them together.

The first few months of your relationship had been hard as hell, only being able to meet up every now and then. John was stuck in Washington State until he graduated, since he had a scholarship to help pay for everything, and you had a lot to manage in Texas with your many sites ran by your friend Sollux and you, comics to draw, and a tour schedule the size of the entire United States, because your music was getting popular. It was about eight months of only meeting every now and then because you were both so busy, when you finally snapped, saying there was no reason you couldn't manage all your shit from Washington. Sollux had actually gone with you, deciding he didn't care to stay in Texas either, and looked at the whole thing as a sort of adventure while making his jabs about you turning into a hopeless romantic. John was more than surprised at you turning up at his doorstep, bags in hand, asking to stay-for good. He had cried. You had tried hard not to.

Sollux ended up crashing with Karkat and Gamzee. They had an extra bedroom in their apartment, because Karkat used it as an office beforehand. The two were actually on very good terms already because of their interaction over the website you had Sollux make for the comic book store. It was easier just to post their site to your own site, and cheaper to manage as well. The store gained mass popularity when you proclaimed it the only store in the country you would be selling SB&HJ merchandise from, and online orders from all over the world began piling in. Karkat had been thrilled, of course, and even had to upsize his store in order to accommodate for the new prosperity. A new store was soon opened in the next town, managed by people Karkat hand-picked to run it, and soon another was opened, and then another. Karkat Vantas is now the owner of a very popular chain of stores, which all sell comics still, but mostly specialize in accessories and apparel from said comics-yours included, of course. Technically, you're his boss, but you only pull that card when you want John to have time off, because Karkat gets beyond pissed when you make him call you _Mr. Strider_. You don't think there's anything in the world quite as fun as pissing him off.

"Are you coming with us to dinner, Dave?" John asks, squeezing your hand and bringing you back down to earth.

"Nah, I've got some stuff to cook up for later," you say, noting the disappointed look on John's face. You pull him in for a kiss, knowing his dad is taking pictures like the oddball he is, and play with the tassel on his mortarboard hat. "Don't look like that, babe. This is a family thing, y'know? I think it'll mean more to him to spend time with just you before we leave."

"I know," he says, "but you're family too now. You know Dad thinks of you as a son."

"Yeah, he reminded me today. For real, man, I have stuff to do. I've got something special planned for you later."

"Oh?" he grins mischievously while his dad is occupied with sorting through his pictures. John's voice lowers to a whisper nonetheless. "What kind of surprise?"

"The kind that'll make you very happy. Has anyone told you yet how hot you look in your graduation getup? I mean, _forreal_." He giggles, kissing you chastely again. "'M proud of you, Egbert."

"Don't, Dave, I'll cry," he says, shoving you playfully. "So I'll see you later, I guess… Want me to bring you food from wherever we go?"

"Nah, I'll manage. You two have fun," you say, squeezing his cheeks and grinning when he puffs up in disdain. "Love you."

"Love you too. Don't miss me too hard," he grins. John's dad claps your shoulder for at least the fifteenth time before you manage to break free and head for your car, ready to enact your latest master plan, which involves swinging by the airport- which you're already late for, shit.

Before you can even make it to your car, your phone rings.

"Sup?" you greet after sliding your thumb over the screen to accept the call.

 _"Sup yourself, cool-kid,"_ the smooth voice of your PR agent, Terezi Pyrope, says in your ear. _"Have you been working on the script like you promised?"_

"Yeah, totally. Got most of it all figured out," you reply, making it to your car and starting it, eager to leave the parking lot before all the families merge out at once.

_"Figured out as in already on paper, or figured out as in you haven't done anything except think about it?"_

"I'm wounded, Pyrope. Severely wounded. Is this your way of saying you don't trust me?"

_"Dave, I don't think you understand exactly how hot this project is going to be. I'm getting at least sixty calls a day about the script you haven't even made yet. What am I supposed to tell all the other agents breathing down my neck?"_

"And I don't think any of you guys understand how long it will take to make this script. Literally an hour, tops. I cranked out the entire series as is in a half hour. I'm not getting what part of that you can't see."

_"I can't see any of it, smartass."_

"Oh, right. I forget you're blind sometimes. Not that you need eyes with that crazy shark nose of yours. Just do your thing, whatever you have to say to stall, okay? These irons are in the fire, so you can stop worrying your pretty little head, and go eat your chalk like we all know you do. I've got this. I've got this so much that this literally told me to stop getting it, and I told it to chill the fuck out, because I'm never getting tired of having it."

_"Fine. But if your director's people call me again, I'm forwarding them to you. Maybe talking to that Serket bitch will give you a taste of what you put me through. And don't judge about the chalk. If you ever go blind, you'll understand."_

She hangs up first as usual, and you toss your phone over to the passenger's seat as you make your way to the airport. You had only gotten an agent for movie purposes. Terezi's job is mainly to talk to all the people who want to talk to you. She had agreed to it as soon as you hired her, but that doesn't mean she never complains about it. It didn't matter to you that she was blind. As soon as you met her, you could tell by her sharp grin and prominent attitude that she was the kind of agent you need working for you, pushy, loud, and foul-mouthed.

Thankfully, you make pretty good time. Traffic isn't bad at all yet, but it will be on the way back, since the graduates will all be leaving at the same time. Maybe if you hurry, you can avoid the crowd. Rushing through the airport, you make your way to the gate, and look around for the people you came to pick up.

\--

God, you're an idiot. Seriously, what the hell were you thinking? Somehow you had managed to convince yourself this would be a good idea at the time, and it had seemed like one, but now you're regretting the hell out of this decision, and have retreated to the balcony of your apartment while the intruders claim the indoors for themselves.

Sliding the glass door closed behind you, you move to the edge and pull a cigarette from the pack you stole from Sollux, before lighting it and hiding the pack back inside your pocket. You don't do it very often anymore, because you know John hates when you smoke, but you think situations like this call for it. All you tormentors are in the same room, and what makes it even worse is, it's all your fucking fault.

It had started a few months ago. You had a gig in New York City, and John really wanted to accompany you so he could finally meet Rose and Kanaya in person, but he'd had to stay behind to study for fast approaching finals. He tried to play it off as if he didn't care that much, but you knew better than to believe that fake smile he tried to pass off as genuine. So as soon as you got to New York, you'd told her to keep a few days free for the week of John's graduation, and then sent a message to Jade instructing the same thing. The two were ecstatic at your little idea, and quickly helped you make plans to arrange meet ups with them. And then comes the part where you must have lost your mind, and you're still not even sure what the hell happened with all of this, but you somehow ended up extending the invitation to Dirk of all people. So now your brother is in your habitat, Jake in tow, and they're mingling with all your friends, and seem to have acquired the common goal of teasing you until it drove you to actually break your promise to John and light up a cancer stick. Yeah, great going, Dave. You're a goddamn genius.

It had to be done though, and you know that. In addition to the fact that John messages Jake almost as much as he messages you, because the two of them talk about…whatever the hell it is they talk about, you also hadn't seen Dirk since you last played a show in Texas. It's not that you miss him or some shit. Nah, as a matter of fact, now that he's in your apartment, you wish you'd never invited him. It's just that it was you and him for so long without anyone else to help you, and maybe it made you a little nostalgic or something- hell, you don't know. You'd sent the message to him before you could think about it, and then had to make him promise not to let loud mouthed Jake let anything slip in his many _many_ conversations with John. Whatever the case, they're all here, and you're all waiting for John to get back from dinner with his dad so you can surprise him.

The door slides open behind you, and you hurriedly flick the cigarette over the edge in the hopes that you hadn't been caught, but to no avail. It's Dirk who's come to pester you, and he's already giving you that damn holier than thou look, though most people wouldn't be able to tell he's giving you any sort of look, since his poker face is about as prominent as yours. He comes to lean on the railing beside you, and the two of you gaze out toward the busy streets below, which are quickly becoming enveloped in darkness from the shadows of the setting sun. It's not raining, for once, and the stars are sprinkling across the sky slowly, the air kind of sweet from the smell of recent rain and quickly approaching summer weather. Neither of you say anything for a few moments, which is more than alright with you, since most of your conversations are through silence. But of course, not being around each other for so long has called for some sort of conversation to take place. You're grateful when he's the one to initiate it.

"So, smoking again, huh?" he says.

"Fuck off," you scowl, leaning your head back to look towards the night sky. "It's the first one I've had in forever, and I wouldn't need it if there weren't a bunch of stuck up assholes in my place."

"A bunch of stuck up assholes that _you_ invited here."

"Yeah, well, since when do I make good decisions?" you grumble, and Dirk actually cracks a grin. "So were you going to mention that little golden circle around your finger, or were you holding your breath for someone else to notice it?"

"Nothing gets by you, I see," Dirk drawls, lifting his left hand to flash you the offending little piece of jewelry. "Seem to have grown a wife over the past few months."

"Is that wife a little dork by the name of English?"

"Well, English-Strider, now."

"Suh-weet. Glad to see he didn't let you brand him completely. So now he has a name with a hyphen in it like some uptown house husband? How's life in domestic suburban post marital bliss?"

"About the same as it always was," he says. "We did the whole vows/marriage thing more for his grandma than anything else. She was all excited by the idea, and that woman's a real peach. It was pretty much a have to, not that it wasn't ever the ultimate goal."

"Never thought you'd be married, bro."

"Never thought you'd be packing the future husband and moving to California, but these things happen. That's what happens when you define yourself in irony, little man. Curveballs can catch you unaware, and then you just go with it because it's too good of a chance to pass up."

Silence falls again, and it's as comfortable as it is long. You risk a glance over at him, and notice how happy he looks, even if he's not smiling openly about it. You nudge him with your shoulder.

"Congrats, dude."

"Back at you."

Your phone is buzzing against your thigh, and you reach into your pocket to grab it, effectively dislodging the pack of cigarettes you stole. Dirk snatches them up before you can grab for them again, and you're flipping him off as he carries them back inside.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:42--

EB: have you heard from anyone today? i messaged rose and jade earlier and they haven't said a word to me. neither has jake.

TG: im sure its nothing

TG: rose and kanaya are probably having some sort of lesbo fest

TG: jades probably frolicking through her pumpkin patch

TG: and jake is doing whatever the hell he normally does

EB: i guess. it would've been nice to talk to them about graduation though. rose said she wanted to hear about my speech last night, but maybe she forgot.

TG: no worries egbert

TG: your speech was awesome

EB: thanks, dave. i'm swooning!

TG: i bet

TG: so are you almost home

EB: yeah. dad is dropping me off.

EB: did you finish your surprise?

TG: yes

TG: you better fucking love me for this too because theyre driving me crazy

EB: they're???

TG: yes

TG: so hurry

TG: and get here like

TG: fucking yesterday

TG: or maybe the day before

EB: i'm almost there! :)

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:47--

As you're placing your phone back in your pocket, you look up to see headlights approaching fast in the distance. Fuck, yes, that's probably John and Daddy Egbert. Not to be a killjoy or anything, but you're pretty sure you never want to be left alone with all these people at the same time again. Hell, just talking to Dirk and Rose for more than a few minutes has effectively messed your brain up to the point where if you tried to rap right now, nothing but smoke and possibly your immortal soul would come out of your mouth. Okay, maybe that's extreme.

But then again, maybe not.

The car turns toward your apartment complex, and yeah, that's definitely them. You hurriedly turn and make your way back inside, and everyone looks up at you- which is creepy- and you point to the door.

"John's here," you say, "so let's go ahead and surprise the pants off him, 'cause that'll make my night easier. Like, you have no idea."

"Strider, I don't think any of us have the desire to hear about your fruity rumpus fest with Egbert," Karkat hisses from the kitchen, turned to look at you over his shoulder while Sollux looks between the two of you fondly. "For the sake of my goddamn sanity, all of our pants will be kept on in my presence, or I'll viciously attack you like an equestrian muscle-beast."

"Horses, Vantas, they're called _horses_ ," you say, waving him off to make your way to the door. "Now be quiet, if you people are even capable of it. I'm gonna collect the nerd we're here to woo."

As you make your way to the door, you dodge a smuppet, thrown by lord knows who, and hurry outside to greet your little Egbert, who looks more than frazzled as he talks to his dad through the open car window. You manage to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

"Yes, Dad, I'll try to see you again before we move," John's saying, running a hand through his hair- a sign he's nervous about something.

"Please do, son. I'll miss you very much when you're gone. It took me a long time to get used to you not being in the same house as me anymore, much less the same state. I worry, is all."

You walk up to the car and swing an arm around John's shoulders, holding your hand out to fist bump his dad, who still looks at you as oddly now as he did the first time you did it.

"Dave," John breathes, the relief evident in his voice. "I almost forgot you were waiting on me."

"Waiting for what?" his dad asks, and you immediately understand what John is trying to get you to do.

"Uh, yeah, man. I've got a surprise for my little graduate inside. You can stick around though, Mr- uh, Dad. The more the merrier, right?" John gives you a discreet shove in the side, and you swat his hand away.

"Oh, no, I've got a meeting in a few hours. I might be late as it is, so I suppose I should be going."

"Dad…it's really late for you to be working. Don't you think you should…slow down a bit?" John says, worry in his tone. "You're not driving out of town again, right?"

"No, it's a meeting online. I think I've mastered the webcam, but who knows?" his dad laughs. "And don't worry about me, John, I've got a few good years of work left in me." John leans in the car window to hug him around the neck, and then Daddy Egbert is putting the car in reverse, waving to you both. "Call me before you move. We can meet for dinner or something."

"Sure thing," you say, hand up in a wave. "Be careful."

"Love you, Dad!"

And then the car is driving away, and John flops against you with a whine.

"Ugh, Dave, no more. No more, no more, no more."

"Care to elaborate, Egderp?"

"He spent all dinner talking about Mom, and how much he'll miss me, and…no leaving me alone with him anymore, because if you do, we'll end up moving into his house with him, because I can't tell my dad no. I just _can't_. Moving is gonna be hard enough without worrying about his wellbeing the whole time, and I'm gonna have to Skype with him all the time, because…bluh. Sorry, I'm rambling, I know. I'm sorry."

You grin at him, pulling him into your chest and swaying on your feet to rock him side to side. This is his favorite thing you do to calm him down, he's said before, so you make sure to hold him extra tight. He goes limp in your hold, humming contently.

"No worries, John," you say in his ear. "We'll call him every few minutes if it makes you happy. I know you guys are crazy close, and it's no bother for me to fly him out to stay with us as much as you want him to."

"Why are you so awesome?" John mumbles. "You always know what to say."

"Yeah, well, I have my own selfish reasons for agreeing to not leave you alone with your dad, because there are a shit ton of people you're not ever allowed to leave me alone with again."

"Huh?" He pulls away from you, blue eyes scrutinizing your expression. He's a pro at reading your face now, even behind your shades.

"Close your eyes, Egbert. 'S time to give you your present," you say, putting your hands under his glasses, but over his eyes, taking extra care not to let his precious frames slip off his face. He makes an excited squeal in his throat, and okay, that was probably the cutest thing he's done in a while, you think. Top ten, at least. You navigate him toward the apartment, and open the door for him right before he runs into it. You're not that mean. Everyone is standing by the door now, and Jade looks as though she's about to bust.

"C'mon, Dave," John whines. "Just tell me what it is already!"

"Fine, you whiny brat," you say, removing your hands from his face John's eyes are open for all of two seconds before Jade fiercely tackles him to the ground, and you walk around them to get out of the way. You are mean enough to let him get bombarded. It's only fair, since you had dealt with it earlier.

"Jade? Oh, fuck, _Jade!_ " John deadpans, face slowly stretching into his breathtaking smile as his arms wrap around her and they roll on the ground.

"It's so good to _meet_ you! I've waited forever to hug you, John! You're even cuter in person!" Jade giggles, pulling back and offering her hand to help him up. He takes it excitedly, eyes roaming around the room.

"Rose!" he says, rushing forward to gather her in an equally strong hug, though she doesn't handle it as well as Jade did. She makes a startled noise as he squeezes her tightly, and then laughs as he puts her back down on the ground. "You guys look great!"

"As do you, John. This is Kanaya," Rose says, motioning to her tall girlfriend. John hugs her too, obviously in hug mode by this point, and she laughs lightly before hugging him back.

"And you're Dirk, aren't you?" John asks, observing your older brother. "I've never seen pictures, but you look a lot like Dave."

"Strider is an impossible gene to differentiate from," Dirk says, reaching out to ruffle John's mess of hair. "We all ooze suave and ironic pheromones. Well, except for Dave."

"Fuck you, bro," you call. And now comes the part you've been dreading immensely. This is where John is going to meet his soul mate in the name of all things geeky and un-ironic.

"So you must be Jake then!"

"Indeed! It's absolutely thrilling to meet you, John!" And then the two of them wrap in an embrace so tight, you can't even tell them apart. Dirk's eyebrows are as high as yours are by the time they part, already in a conversation about something no one else will be able to follow. John pulls away from Jake long enough to pull you down for a kiss, his arms around your neck.

"No, really, you're the best," he says, kissing you a few more times, which you're all too happy to reciprocate. "The best is you."

"I told you, bro. You never believed me all that time ago, but I told you. My mess is the best."

"Gag me with a fucking curtain rod, will you two go somewhere else with that shit?" Karkat says, and John smiles up at him as if just realizing he was there.

"You're just jealous that Sollux never kisses you in public, Karkitty," you say, noting the blush that creeps across the store manager's face.

"That is a completely untrue solicitation, Strider!" he spits.

" _Mr._ Strider to you."

"Fuck you and the ditch you congealed from!"

"Isn't this language rather crass to use in the company of ladies?" Jake asks, shooting Karkat a meaningful look. Karkat opens his mouth to respond, but then is interrupted by Gamzee walking in from the balcony outside, pushing a wheelchair with the guy Sollux hired to help run his forums sitting soundly in it. His name is Tavros, you think. They both look around.

"Well, shit. You motherfuckers could've up and warned a brother that John was here," Gamzee says, stalking his lanky body forward to wrap John in a tight embrace. "We've been waiting for you, my man." He reeks of weed, but that's really more of his natural smell now. You can't help but notice Tavros smells just as contaminated, and by the red rims around both their eyes, you know they're both high as hell. John doesn't seem to care though, as he hugs them both, all smiles. He's only ever been high with them once- and it's a night you'll never forget.

You agreed to smoke with Gamzee and Sollux a few months ago. John had given you a disapproving look, obviously lumping marijuana in with all the various infamous narcotics he's likely heard about in class, and sat on the couch as you all gathered around the coffee table to take turns hitting a bong. By your third hit, you were already pretty baked, and John was looking at you like he was half scared, which made you burst out laughing for some reason. Finally, you and Gamzee convinced him to take a hit, because once he started medical school he wouldn't be able to anymore, and he took it as a sort of dare. So with a defiant look on his face, he inhaled sharply, which was a huge fucking mistake, and immediately went into a coughing fit for at least ten minutes. Whether it was the strength of Gamzee's stash, the fact that it was his first time smoking anything, or the lack of oxygen in his brain from coughing so long, you aren't sure which, but John emerged from the fit with a huge smile, and immediately asked if he could try again. By the end of his third hit, he was completely gone, and you remember how the four of you had a very deep conversation about space. And potato chips. Yeah, that's what you remember, at least. Or maybe potato chips never actually came up, and you were all just thinking about them.

After that night, John said he didn't want to smoke anymore, because even if it was fun for him at first, he still had a bad case of paranoia, and ended up hiding behind the couch, fully convinced a police officer was going to follow the smell of smoke and arrest all of you. Sollux had pulled up an app on his phone that made different sound effects, and played a police siren, and you'd never seen John bolt from a room so fast. You'd found him under your bed, curled in a fetal position and apologizing to Jesus. So yeah, he doesn't smoke anymore.

The party goes on for a few hours, and everyone seems to get along way more than you thought. Even Karkat acts pretty well behaved after a few drinks. You've kept constant watch over John's alcohol intake, because even two years later, he's still a complete lightweight, and drunk John is not someone you want to deal with tonight, especially with Jake in the same room, as the two of them appear to be equally cuddly. You end up on the couch, crammed with Dirk to your left and Rose to your right, and shit, how did you let this happen? Kanaya is conversing with Jade about something, and John is sitting at the kitchen table, sitting so close to Jake that their knees are touching, and their heads are together so you can't tell what they're saying. Gamzee, Sollux, Karkat and Tavros are all outside on the balcony, and dear sweet troll Jesus, you're left alone with your two worst nightmares.

"When are you and John making the big move again?" Rose asks. She's been surprisingly docile tonight, and you're grateful for that, but aren't letting your guard down just yet.

"Few weeks," you say. "We've got a lot to do around here before we can split."

"It sounds exciting," Rose says, "but it leaves me with ill-fated skepticism about Hollywood's lack of creativity if they're making your…comics into a movie." Dirk laughs outright, and you shoot her a glare.

"It's not my fault you don't appreciate my genius," you huff, eyes panning over to John again, silently begging him to come save you. "It's gonna be a huge deal."

"Yeah, people like the idea of absolute bullshit in movies," Dirk says to Rose, the two of them obviously getting off on this. "It's easier for the idiots to follow."

"Yeah, well, then your husband ought to love them."

"Most likely. But he likes every movie he's ever seen, so that's not saying much."

"You know, how about some fucking congratulations or something?" you say, sinking into the cushions. "It's not like either of you have ever made a movie!"

"I have too," Dirk says. "I make them all the time."

"Puppet porn doesn't fucking count."

"It's hardly porn. It's art. And my reviews beg to differ."

"I've actually been very interested in your puppets since the day Dave first whined to me about them," Rose says, leaning over you to talk to your bro, obviously about to dissect his twisted mind with her tentacle therapy. Better him than you though, for real.

"So glad you've taken an interest-" and he's off, explaining the finer details of smuppets, filming, computer programming, and ponies, for some obscene reason. You've never gotten over your brother's keen interest in Rainbow Dash, but Rose seems to latch onto that one quickly. Sighing, you stand up from the cushions, and make your way outside to see what the hell these guys are doing. And go figure, they're all passing a pipe back and forth between themselves. Sollux looks up at you.

"You want a hit?" he asks, grinning behind his novelty 3D glasses, and you know he's already baked. You nod, reaching for it, eyes settling on Sollux and Karkat.

"So what's the fucking deal with you two anyway?" you ask, lifting the lighter. "Are you an item, or still being purchased separately?" Karkat sputters while you light the end of the pipe, inhaling a steady stream of smoke.

"None of your goddamn business!"

"Yes, we're dating," Sollux offers, and Karkat directs a punch to his shoulder. Sollux merely shrugs, reaching out for the pipe again. "No reason to be so hostile, KK."

"You're one to talk, you bipolar fuck. Who's the one who punched a hole in my wall a week ago? Hmm? Oh, right, that was you, wearing the same stupid 3D glasses you're wearing now. Do you know how ridiculous those make you look? Just by the way."

Sollux sighs, leaning back on his hands after he passes the pipe to Gamzee. "It's not like your place wasn't full of holes because of Gamzee's crazy ass anyway. Besides, my glasses are awesome, okay."

"I didn't make all those motherfuckin' holes," Gamzee says. "Some of them were made courtesy of Karbro."

"Fuck you, Makara. That's not even true."

"I swear to the mirthful subjugglators, my righteously in denial brother."

Tavros giggles as Gamzee passes the pipe up to him, and maybe it's the lack of filter weed gives you, but you find yourself asking a question you've wanted to ask for a while.

"So why are you in a wheelchair, Tav?"

If it was anyone else, you're sure it would've been taken offensively, but Tavros is wearing a smile when he answers you, obviously not the slightest bit taken aback.

"When I was ten, I climbed a tree and fell out of it," he says. "I even tried flapping my arms so I could fly, but obviously ten is the cutoff age for pixie dust."

"Pixie dust?"

"Faith, trust, and pixie dust!" he grins, moving his arm in the air. "Like Peter Pan? I wish I could've flown like him just once. Pchooo!" his arm moves through the air again as he passes the pipe back to you. "But it's cool. My life doesn't have to end just because I don't have legs anymore."

"Well, of course not. It's not like you lost your brain or some shit," Karkat hisses, and Sollux grins at him.

"That's his way of being supportive, I think."

"So, Dave," Tavros says as you pass the pipe back to Sollux, "what are you going to do with your free time now that you're leaving all of us here?"

"I'm not leaving you here. You have a few months to get your shit together, and then you're all coming too," you say, exhaling the smoke you were holding in. "It's not like we're just regular friends here. We run a business, and it's kinda verging on the most ironic empire known to man. We gotta keep the ball rolling, in case this movie thing doesn't work out. I mean, it will, but you know. Can't have just one iron in the fire."

"I'm running the main goddamn branch of the store here," Karkat says. "I can't just leave."

"You can just as easily open one in California. Hell, we have enough of them up here. Just leave the store to someone you trust while you build the new one, no sweat."

"And why should we have to derail our entire lives just because you said so?"

"Because y'all hitched your wagon to mine a long time ago, and I'm technically everyone's boss, so that kinda gives me tons of authority. Like, I can't even begin to tell you how much you owe me, Karkitty. But if you're interested, I can turn it into a rap for you."

"Fuck you and your half-assed raps, Strider. If your movie fails, I'm going to be the first person there to bust your balls about it, because you're overdue to be knocked down a few pegs."

"Damn, dude. It's like you don't love me anymore."

"Your mother."

"Ugh, can't we drop the motherfuckin' hostility here? I'm trying to get my mellow on and you guys are making it all impossible."

You look up to see Gamzee sitting in Tavros's lap, both of them lounging in the wheelchair like it's a recliner. You grin at them, finally feeling pretty calm due to the smoke in your system, and decide to make your way back inside.

"Yeah, yeah, just remember what I said. You assholes have three months," you say over your shoulder, dodging the empty beer can Karkat throws at you. Damn, people seem to have a thing for throwing shit at you tonight. Everyone inside is still absorbed in side conversations, but it looks like Kanaya and Jade have joined Rose and Dirk on the couch, and they're probably all talking about you like the sadistic bastards they are. You make your way over to John, flopping in the empty chair on his other side, and putting your head down on the table.

"You okay, Dave?" he asks, hand moving to thread through your hair. You hum in acknowledgement, scooting your chair closer to his. You hear Jake laughing across from you.

"My, my, he is similar to Dirk! Should I also assume he likes to spend time in a 'studio' filled with energy drinks and odd little gadgets?"

"Whoa, yeah, Dave does that all the time!"

"So does Dirk!"

"Uugggghhhhhhhhhhh," you groan, banging your head on the table. John laughs above you, petting your hair again.

"Okay, okay, no more comparisons," he says. "They make him uncomfortable."

"Oh, Dirk is the same way."

And just like that, you curl in on yourself and will your body to die. You don't remember closing your eyes, but you remember opening them to see John embraced with Jake again.

"Yeah, I think everyone is staying in town a few days. You guys are sure you don't need to crash here?" John asks.

"Oh, no, Dirk made certain to book our hotel room before we even agreed to come. He's very meticulous about these things, you see," Jake grins. "We simply must spend the day together one day while we're in town! You can help show us around your charming city! Won't that be marvelous, Dirk?"

"Uh, yeah, why don't you guys wait until Dave is actually conscious to participate in the conversation? You can talk to him tomorrow, pumpkin." You inwardly cringe at the nickname Dirk gave Jake a long time ago, and hold your breath until you hear them parting ways and the door closing behind them.

"Finally!" you say, sitting up and stretching. John looks over at you incredulously, an eyebrow arched above his glasses.

"Were you faking being asleep so you wouldn't have to socialize?" he grins.

"No. The sleep was real. But you were right about the waiting to leave part. And for the record, we are not spending any day together in the fucking pumpkin patch. I'd sooner eat dirt."

"Well, you actually owe me a day of socializing again, since you smoked a cigarette and snuck outside to share some 'motherfuckin' herb in the most righteous of circles'."

"…Goddammit, Gamzee," you hiss under your breath. "Don't I get brownie points for the party I threw you?" He smiles again, walking toward you and sitting on your lap.

"Maybe. I might be willing to reward you for sitting through a party for me, since I know you hate socializing."

"What kind of reward?" you ask as he reaches for your shades, pulling them off your face.

"The kind that doesn't need sunglasses…or much else on, for that matter."

"Fucking _swoon_."

He smiles against your lips before pressing his to yours fully, and you waste no time opening your mouth for him. He groans inside your mouth as your hands move to his upper thighs, kneading his skin through the material of his jeans.

"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," he whispers, reaching up to pull his glasses from his face and set them next to yours on the table. "It's like we've been apart forever."

"We're not ever doing that shit again," you agree, lifting him in your arms and carrying him toward the bedroom. "When you graduate medical school, I'll just walk up there for you and grab the diploma. They won't care."

"Pretty sure they would," he giggles as you toss him on the bed, crawling over him to look him in the eyes. "You look really hot right now," he says, voice lowering to a husky tone. You smirk at him before reaching down and pulling his shirt up to his navel, him taking the hint and raising his arms for you. You're pretty sure it's now or never.

"So, hey," you say quietly, and he blinks owlishly up at you. "I got you another present."

"Dave, really? You've done enough for me today!" he protests, but you reach in your pocket and pull out his last surprise, holding it firmly in your fist so he can't see it. He's looking up at you imploringly, but you can't find the right words, so you settle for just handing it to him. He's speechless for a moment.

"You…got me a Ring Pop?"

"A blue one."

His eyes grow wide, a smile slowly stretching across his face. "A fucking blue one."

"It's pretty accepted in California," you say so he knows you're serious. "So, you know, we can get another ring after you eat that one. Or just get a real one. Whatever you want, really. Uh, if you even wanna say yes, that is. If you don't, that's cool, I guess."

He's unwrapping it hurriedly, putting it on his pinky finger, but it still won't go all the way down. He's grinning up at you, eyes shining with tears, and he nods excitedly, pulling you back down to his mouth and helping you remove the rest of your clothes, and you his.

The sex is even better than normal, both of you focused on making it last rather than losing yourself in animalistic passion. You're carefully moving inside him, eyes locked with his and hands gripping his. His head rolls to the side, mouth opening wide as he cries out softly, inner walls clamping down on you and driving you closer to the edge as he releases first.

"Dave! Da- _aaahhh_ …" His legs tremble around your waist, and the sight of him, completely spent and quietly whimpering your name, ridiculous candy ring on his left pinky finger to uphold the promise the two of you made years ago; it has you burying your face in his neck as you finish, releasing inside of him, riding out the pleasure slowly against him. You finally collapse on top of him, kissing every part of him you can reach.

And as he rolls next to you, a smile on his face and tears still fresh in his eyes, you think back to his speech from earlier that day. He had said it was okay to be afraid of the future, because there would always be people who cared enough to stay through the screw ups. You think of everyone who came all the way here just because you asked them to, and because they loved John enough to make the trip. You think of all your friends who will follow you to California, and would have done so even if you didn't pretend to bully them into it. You think of all the unknown things you're moving towards: whether or not your movie will make it, whether or not you will make it…

John leans in to kiss you, and you think of the last time things were so uncertain, when you moved all the way across the goddamn country to be with him, and it was the best thing you've ever done in your life. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss the stupid candy ring, and he laughs when you lick it playfully.

Yeah, the unknown is okay, you decide. Because John will be there for you whether or not you screw up.

And that's more than enough for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reader: ==>Listen to the motherfuckin' title song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FqmJy8HzQI)


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